


Team- The 2013 Rookies

by Born In Captivity- Ineligible to Release (Jashasedai)



Series: Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers [13]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, IndyCar RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Tame Racing Drivers, Doubles of Every Character, F/M, Love Triangles, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 10:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashasedai/pseuds/Born%20In%20Captivity-%20Ineligible%20to%20Release
Summary: In an AU where a secret species is used as Racing Drivers, sometimes diverse groups form tight bonds.When the rookie heirs to the stables visit the Grand Prix Circuits, it is referred to as The Grand Tour.(This is different than what the Top Gear guys do after leaving Top Gear.)





	1. The Rookies Melbourne- 2012

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the Tame Racing Drivers AU. Check out the series summary.
> 
> Real People don't belong to me.
> 
> Shoutout to Eknodine, who pretty much walked me through this step by step.
> 
> This story is fiction and is no reflection on anyone in it. The story does belong to me, as does the AU in which it is set.

**The Rookies**   
**Melbourne- 2012**

  
They called them The Rookies. Sometimes bond pairs who arrived on the grid at the same time had special connections with each other. It was unusual for a group to ALL feel and instant pull towards the other's' companionship. It was the humans to a lesser extent, but the veterans agreed they'd never seen, nor heard of a group that was closer.

  
Their teams were all the small ones, who couldn't afford to keep stable facilities, and used the on track facilities. This was a new development for Williams, who had always had enough resources, but was experiencing a dearth of wins, so Pauli, as a test Driver, anyway, was in the track stalls. He had just settled in, when he heard a scratching at the door.

  
He opened the cupboard, and listened. He couldn't feel any of the other Racing Drivers in their stalls.

  
The stall door opened and a tall, black suited Driver with a mischievous air leaned in. He gave Pauli an acknowledging nod, looking around the neatly kept room. [Come on,] he gestured. [We're going to the mess.]

  
Pauli followed him out. [How did you get out of your stall?]. All foals tried to get out from the inside, without success. It was generally agreed there was no way out once you were in.   
[I know a trick,] he said, casually. There was a tall, slim white suited Driver already standing out there. Freeza. Pauli knew him from the stable. The Mercedes Drivers had been kept separate from the McLaren Drivers until a while before Pauli had matched. They'd become friends, since. He hadn't expected that Freeza's plan would actually be possible, when they'd discussed it.

  
The black Driver went to the next door. He touched the handle for a long time. There were more scratching sounds. The door opened and Guardian popped out. Freeza clasped his hand. Pauli waved at him. The black suited driver went to the next door.

  
[Why are we doing this?] Guardian asked. He nodded at Pauli.

  
[We're getting to know the competition,] Pauli said with a grunt.

  
A Green came out of the next door.

  
[Shadow, it's nice to meet you. We spoke earlier.] Freeza touched his helmet to Shadow's.

  
[It is nice to meet you, too,] the Green responded.

  
[Ferrari,] the black growled, stepping away from the next door handle and looking at it, [Too paranoid.]

  
[If you can't get him out...] Freeza started.

  
[I can get him out,] the Black interrupted, [Ferrari just use harder locks, I need to be able to see.]

  
[Who's got a light?] Freeza asked.

  
None of them, of course.

  
[I have something that might work. You have to promise not to tell anyone I have it,] Guardian said. He went back in his room and came back with a tiny monitor. He touched the face and it lit up, just like the monitors in the garages. They all groaned at the flood of light in the previously dark corridor.

  
[Hold it so it shows on the handle,] the black suited Driver knelt beside the door while the other black suited Driver held the light.

  
After a moment there was a click and the black suited Driver with the door trick pushed Guardian and his light back and opened the door. A red came out of the stall. He certainly had the bearing of a Ferrari stallion.

  
The next door was also a Ferrari door, but now with the light and the hang of it, the Driver got it open fairly quickly.

  
The yellow who crept out did NOT have the Ferrari bearing.

  
The Red went over and embraced him and stroked his hand on the exposed skin at the back of his helmet, [Come with me, Alisar, I'll make sure you're okay, don't be shy, these are our friends, come on little brother.]

  
There was a faint tapping and a hopeful rev on the next door in line. The Black worked his magic again and a Blue was standing with them. The Red greeted him. [We met at the home stable. My name is Trace, this is my little brother Alisar, you are Zuri, aren't you?]

  
The Blue nodded.

  
[I am Freeza, these are my stable mates, Pauli in the orange and Guardian in the Black. Xerxes is from Redbull, he was kind enough to provide our passports for tonight.]

  
The Black who'd opened the doors put his hand by his forehead.

  
[I met Shadow this afternoon when we arrived, and I suspected this Ferrari stallion would be Trace. It's nice to meet you, Zuri.]

  
[Welcome to the Grand Tour of the track,] Xerxes gestured with an elaborate flourish.

  
[How did you know who I am?] Trace asked. [I've never heard of you.]

  
[But I've heard of you. Your reputation precedes you, master racer.] Freeza had his arms crossed and his hips cocked in a stance that clearly asked how Trace liked being put in his place.

  
Pauli was a bit taken aback. Freeza never gave anyone credit they weren't due. But his stance was challenging. An open challenge to deny the claim.

  
Deny he was a master racer? As if in some way he would lose if he didn't.

  
The Ferrari stallion stepped up to the Mercedes stallion and tilted his head back to look up into his visor, completely unconscious of shorter stature. [Is that what they're saying about me, Mercedes?]

  
Guardian let out a quiet growl.

  
[They must be right, then? They always are.] He looked Freeza down and up slowly. [You'd know.]

  
Freeza leaned forward. [I could have left you in there, little Ferrari. If you prefer to go back, feel free.]

  
[I think I'll stick around and see what kind of trouble you all get into. Nothing like a little rumble with the handlers to get you primed for racing.] Trace shrugged and stepped out of Freeza's path. [Right, guys?] He patted the two Black Drivers.

  
What was a rumble with the handlers?

  
Guardian growled at him, again, and turned off his light and put his little monitor in his pocket.

  
Xerxes put his hand by his forehead again, like he was shading his eyes. Why did he keep doing that? [Nothing like a few bruises to keep your senses sharp.]

  
[Let's just go, anyway,] Pauli gestured. [I want ice cream.]

  
[There's ice cream?] Shadow asked. [Where?]

  
[In the mess, where else? Pauli keeps his room clean, but we're going to find us a mess!] Xerxes sang.

  
Guardian laughed at him. He started singing an old practice song that had been rewritten so many times with so many new words that if you didn't know the Driver it was about, you knew several others who did. He had a better voice than Xerxes. [Our stallion is a brave old boy, his name is Pauli. He is always clean and always neat, so orange he's almost yellow. We took him to the track one day and all the karts were disarrayed. He wouldn't let us race until he'd got them all quite sorted. Now when we race our lap time are all based on what kart we got in!]

  
They all laughed.

  
Pauli laughed, too. It was just a fun song. Oranges always got teased about neatness, Greys about practicality, Reds about going overboard, etc.

  
They came to a cross corridor and Xerxes tricked the lock and the door opened. They could smell the scents of a quiet kitchen. Cleaners, faint food smells, metal, drains. They followed it to the right.

  
Another voice raised. [Once my team and I went abroad to race on a new track.] Alisar sang.

  
Guardian picked up the refrain of the old familiar song, [We walked it up, we walked it down, and then we walked it back.]

  
[The crew had built the fastest car. Our rivals were in white.]

  
[I drove it up, I drive it down and then I drove it back.]

  
[No one could ever touch my speed the shining red sped by.]

  
[I raced them up, I raced them down and then I raced them back.]

  
[The checkered flag was coming down I could see my match's face.]

  
[I sped it up, I didn't slow down, my rival at my back.]

  
[The wheels spun the race was gone the gravel ate my chances.]

  
[I messed it up, I broke her down, and then I walked her back]

  
The two high fived.

  
[It's nice to know some things are the same at all the stables,] Shadow said.

  
[When we sing it, the car is silver, and the other car is red.] Freeza said shortly.

  
Trace bowed to him, with a hint of sarcasm. [When we used to sing it the rival was blue.]

  
[That's because you're a Ferrari, it would be weird if you sang about a red rival, for everyone else, Ferrari IS the rival,] Xerxes said to Trace. [Besides, it slows the song down to sing-The mostly dark blue car with a big red spot on the air intake and yellow detailiiiiing,] he gestured with exaggerated rhythmic singsong gestures. [Because you know we're winning, right? We're beating all your stables and making all your lead stallions cry? Just so you all get that.]

  
They stopped walking and stared at him. It was HORRIBLE manners to throw something like that in the faces of your friends.

  
Pauli felt like laughing, though, because the stable he'd grown up in didn't even have it's lead stallion on the grid and the stable who he'd moved to when he'd matched hadn't had a stallion win since he'd been weaned, let alone one currently on the grid.

  
Trace DID laugh. [Our lead stallion hasn't raced since WAY before I was born. And I'm pretty sure the only one Sunshine makes cry is Rabbit, and isn't he YOUR lead stallion?]

  
[Oh, so that's just us, then?] Xerxes gestured gleefully. [Kicking our own asses and making our own lead stallion cry? None of yours are particularly bothered by it? Huh. Okay, just checking.] he laughed.

  
Shadow and Zuri exchanged glances. Pauli looked at Freeza. [Where did you find him? Is he crazy? He just made a joke about his own lead stallion and champion and then laughed at his own rude joke.]

  
Freeza shook his head. [He's the only Racing Driver I've ever met who can open doors. Without him, we wouldn't be going on our Grand Tour. Besides that, he's one of us.]

  
Then Xerxes, still laughing at his own joke, opened the next door, and the kitchen opened before them.


	2. The Grand Tour of the Circuits Monza- 2012

**The Grand Tour of the Circuits**   
**Monza- 2012**

  
The Grand Tour, Freeza explained, was when the British noble children went to the greatest cities of the world and absorbed the culture. They, as the heirs to the greatest stables, were the ones who would be the next generation of champions, and should continue this tradition. So one night every race weekend, when they arrived at a new track, they explored the greatest places in the greatest cities- the Grand Prix Circuits.

  
They pretty much went to the kitchens. Xerxes got them in and they ate whatever was lying around unguarded.

  
[As the lead stallion of the day, I have decided we will play capture the trophy.] Alisar gestured. He was sitting on a counter eating grapes from a bag.

  
They were at Monza.

  
Lead stallion of the day had started the second tour. It meant everyone got a chance to pick the game, and have first choice of fruit.

  
[Alright, everyone, we're playing capture the trophy.] Freeza raised his arms. [Pauli, Alisar, pick your teams.]

  
Pauli's team was Shadow, Guardian, and Freeza.

  
Alisar's team was Trace, Zuri, and Xerxes.

  
The trophies were coke bottles. Each team grasped their bottle and faced off. Guardian's iPod counted down the time. When it beeped, they're turned and ran. There was only one way out of the kitchen, so they raced through the door in a crowd. Xerxes was fast on his feet and ran to the right outside the kitchen, where there was more space. Alisar's team followed him.

  
Shadow went the other way.

  
[Come on!] Freeza grabbed Pauli's hand and they ran.

  
Shadow found an empty hallway with two other hallways looping around to it. He set the coke bottle in the center of the floor and vanished into the dark side hall.

  
[All those Ferrari stallions are going to come straight here after our trophy. So we're going to wait here and capture all of them, while Guardian goes to find their trophy,] Freeza gestured. He had to use big gestures to be visible in the darkness. [Let's find a place to hide to surprise them.]

  
There was a sort of pile of furniture being stored in one of the side passages. Freeza and Pauli crawled into a little hollow space. Freeza had crawled in first, and there wasn't enough room, so they were sort of sitting bobsled style, Pauli with Freeza sitting in front of him, back pressed against his chest. He had to duck his head to keep from hitting it on the underside of the table or whatever they were under, so his chin was pressed on Freeza's shoulder and they were cheek to cheek.

  
Freeza opened his connections just for Pauli. It was too dark to see anything.

  
'How long should we wait?' Pauli asked.

  
'Until we know they're out there, of course.' Freeza moved and accidentally brushed his cheek against Pauli's. He couldn't seem to find any place to put his hands. He kept putting them on Pauli's knees, on either side of him, and then picking them up and setting them on his thighs, and drumming the fingers, and then letting his drumming fingers carry his hands down to Pauli's knees again.

  
Freeza sent a feeling of contentment, almost sleepiness. He had a picture of being cuddled to sleep. It was the middle of the night. Some of these Grand Tours had left Pauli exhausted the next day. 'Can I tell you a secret?'

  
'Yes.' He found himself rubbing the edge of Freeza's sleeve between his fingers.

  
Freeza shifted like he was turning more to face him. 'You can't ever tell anyone, not even one of the other guys. Okay?'

  
'Yes.' He could feel Freeza's muscles when he turned back around and relaxed into Pauli's chest. He could feel them moving under his skin and under his race suit. Huh.

  
Freeza took Pauli's hands and wrapped them around himself in a hug. 'If anyone finds out, my career is over. I have to tell someone, though, and you're my best friend.'

  
He pressed his fingertips into Freeza's ribs, they were close beneath the surface. Freeza was so slight, broad shouldered, but slight. He hugged around Freeza's chest. 'I won't tell.' They HAD become close over the time since Mercedes and McLaren had merged. Then even closer since they'd been rookies together.

  
'I'm a single-track Driver,' Freeza's message was so quiet it barely carried to Pauli.

  
Pauli squeezed his best friend lightly. 'Yes?'

  
'I wasn't sure I could race. It's so hard, learning all these new tracks, over and over. I want to race SO much, though. Not very many single track drivers are ever even fast enough to race. At all. I can, and I WANT to. It's so much work, though.' He squeezed Pauli's arms.

  
'I'm proud of you! You are doing a lot more work than the rest of us, and you are still so fast.'

  
'Thanks, Pauli. It's great that I can say it. Max knows, but he's not really sure what it means, he just knows I have to be hurried along on track walks, because I keep wanting to get down and touch the tarmac.'

  
'Can I help? You could come on our track walks with us.'

  
Freeza nuzzled their helmets together, with a rough plastic on plastic noise. 'I don't think the teams would like that, but maybe it would be nice to have someone to go over the tracks with?'

  
'I will do it with you.'

  
'Thanks!'

  
'I don't think any of the other guys would tell. Even by accident. We're all pretty good secret keepers. Then you'd have lots of help.'

  
Freeza sat still for awhile. 'You think so?'

  
'We all keep this a secret, and we all want to beat the old stallions. Our best chance is as a team.'

  
There was the sound of running footsteps.

  
'FERRARI'S!' They both exclaimed. They slithered out of the hiding spot and rushed down the hall. They stopped by the corner and waited for the two other stallions to run around the corner.

  
It was Xerxes and Zuri.

  
Freeza and Pauli popped out from behind the corner and tagged them. They froze.

  
[Where's the trophy?] Freeza looked at their empty hands.

  
Pauli tapped Xerxes's chest to see if he'd hidden it in his race suit. [You check Zuri,] he told Freeza.

  
Freeza didn't move.

  
Then Pauli saw Trace sway into view. There was a low chuckle. Trace tossed the trophy into the air and caught it. He reached out and double tapped Zuri, who unfroze. Then he stepped between Pauli and Freeza and double tapped Xerxes. Pauli couldn't get past him to unfreeze his own teammate without getting frozen. All Trace had to do was get his trophy back to the other trophy and his team would win.

  
Pauli turned and ran.

  
He knew he was faster on his feet than Zuri and Trace, but Xerxes was so quick. He poured on the speed, before the black gloves caught him. He rebounded off a corner and took off a shot. He had the advantage, here of Freeza. He had seen the layout of the building on a fire escape plan posted on the kitchen wall, and he knew exactly where he was. He had a pretty good idea where Xerxes would have planted their trophy, too. If he could get to it first, they'd have a chance.

  
He settled into a smooth, sustainable run. Practically flew down the staircase onto the main level. Xerxes had a mind like a flock of birds, but Pauli was good at predicting wild movement. Pauli threw open the kitchen door. There, in the center of the floor, was the other team's trophy. He noticed a shadow to one side of the room. Alisar. He paused, waiting for the other Driver to come after him.

  
He didn't, though.

  
Pauli didn't have time, he could hear three sets of footsteps. He would have to trust to speed. He darted in. As he scooped up the trophy he saw Guardian hunched beside Alisar. He shrugged at Pauli and what had happened became apparent. Alisar had been left to guard the trophy and when Guardian snuck in, they tagged each other out. He darted over and double tapped Guardian, who straightened and raced after him.

  
They burst back out of the doors just as the other team ran up the hall. Pauli and Guardian ran back the way they'd left initially. The other team chased them. Pauli stifled a laugh. None of them had gone in to unfreeze Alisar. They probably didn't realize he was frozen in the kitchen.

  
[Give it to me, I'll meet you back at the spot, unfreeze Shadow, he's in the north corridor!] Guardian sort of crashed into him, and then took off down another hallway.

  
Give the trophy to Guardian? He hadn't given him time. Just bumped into him and run off. Pauli kept going. He knew how to get to the North corridor.

  
The three other Drivers followed Guardian.

  
What?

  
Well, whatever. Pauli headed for the north corridor. Shadow was, indeed, frozen there. Pauli ran up and unfroze him. They headed for Freeza.

  
The three of them headed for 'the spot.' Then they went into hiding.

  
Guardian must have been successful for a long time, because it took quite awhile before there was a quiet rev outside the kitchen doors. The door opened. Trace walked in. [Alisar, what are you still doing in here? Oh...he froze you.] He turned around, [He's been in here frozen the whole time.] The other two came in behind him. Trace walked over to Alisar to unfreeze him.

  
Pauli rose from behind Alisar and tagged Trace out.

  
[You'll have to be quick to get both of us before we get you,] Xerxes gestured, [And you are not that quick.] He and Zuri spread out, they came around the sides of the big center table.  
so Pauli would have to choose one of them to tag, and be tagged by the other.

  
Pauli just stood there beside Trace and raised his hands in a question. [How, when you are frozen?]

  
Shadow and Freeza slipped out from under the table behind Zuri and Xerxes. They tagged them out before either had time to react. Pauli went to Freeza and pulled the captured enemy trophy from his race suit, the only one with room to fit anything. Then he walked back to Trace and pulled his own team's trophy out of the stallions' hand. He touched the two together.

  
[We win.]

  
There was much hugging and clapping on the back on all sides, and Shadow went to get Guardian.

  
Trace patted Pauli on the back. [That was a great plan.]

  
As though Pauli had come up with it. He'd just done the obvious thing when he was the only one left. [Freeza knew you'd come for our trophy, it was his plan, and Guardian thought to trick you guys into chasing him.] He looked down, feeling the blush rise behind his helmet. [Not like your plan, that was a great strategy, Trace, very smart.]

  
[Still,] Trace said, [You pulled it off.] He laughed. [Ice cream, now?]

  
[Yes, please,] Pauli felt so happy, Trace had stable leadership in his future, of the Big stable, nonetheless, and for an Orange, having his hard work acknowledged was a special reward. The ice cream tasted even better than usual, that night. 


	3. Special Treats Melbourne- 2013

**Special Treats**   
**Melbourne- 2013**

 

Melbourne would always be Pauli's favorite track. Not because the track was such a wonder. Freeza disdained it. It was unremarkable as a driving track. It was the first track of every year, though. It was the first track where they'd let themselves out into the night. It was the first track back to the season, the cars, the races.

  
Their first race.

  
Not for Xerxes, but he would have his races, soon enough, and he was with them and he was happy.

  
Zuri and Shadow weren't here. Valtteri told Pauli that their men had gone to other classes. They would be missed. They would always be a part of the Grand Tour. Now, though, it was the 6 of them. Xerxes and Alisar were wrestling over the last of the apples. Guardian and Trace were singing every story they knew. Old, funny, dirty, ballads, it didn't matter. Pauli was sitting on a counter, side by side with Freeza. They had gotten closer over the previous season, after Freeza's confession, they had shared more secrets.

  
The peel of the orange Pauli had eaten was sitting on the counter beside his right hand. He could smell the zest. Very sharp and nice. His other hand was holding Freeza's right hand. He pinched the peel and the smell got stronger.

  
'Mika,' Freeza called him.

  
He turned and looked at her. [Yes?]

  
She squeezed his hand. [Someday we should be on a team together. I will talk to Max. You'll talk to Valtteri, won't you?]

  
[Yes.] That would be so good, to be on a team with Freeza. Orange and White, like a creamsicle.

  
She nodded and looked at their team.

  
He followed her gaze to Trace. The older Drivers said he was going to be one of the great Drivers. They said he was in training to be lead stallion of Ferrari.

  
He was a good singer. He always had something nice to say about everyone. He even liked signing autographs. Pauli found it tedious, writing the silly name picture on whatever humans pushed at him. Trace liked it. He tried to explain why it mattered, but it never made sense to anyone else.

  
He was going to be Freeza's mate.

  
It was different for Racing Mares, she'd explained. Most Racing Mares went on breeding trips with the same stud every time, once the handlers had established a compatible bloodline. Freeza's line was due for a breeding back into the Ferrari line. She was going to go live at Ferrari, when she went to her home team.

  
Meeting him had been part of Freeza's motivation for initiating their escape the first night. The Grand Tour had been it's own reward from that point on, but that first night, she wanted to learn who the sire of her foals would be.

  
[Look at the silly colts,] she laughed. He laughed with her.

  
She swung her legs. She was much prettier than Max. The humans did...something to make her look more like him. Sticking something on her face or something. Without it, her short hair didn't disguise her delicate features. Her driving had earned her a place here, even without a match that matched. She looked over at Pauli with eyes so blue he could determine the color even in the unlit kitchen.

  
She smiled a little. Then she swallowed. [Guardian! Let's sing the story of the blue sky.] She hopped off the counter and went to stand beside Guardian. She pushed at him and he gave way like a good second stallion ought for his lead stallion.

  
Trace moved away from the singers and picked up his half eaten bag of cherries and sat on the counter beside Pauli. [Here we are, again, stallion.] He elbowed the Orange Driver. [Melbourne again. Only this time we are set to make our mark.]

  
[Yes,] Pauli agreed. They would certainly be making an impact. No one would ever forget them.

  
Trace popped a cherry into his mouth. [Did you see Freeza's lap times today? It will be so good being on a team with him. I think he'll really challenge me to improve.]

  
[Yes,] Pauli said. Trace got to be Freeza's teammate.

  
Trace touched his mind tentatively. 'He will be spectacular, won't he?' He looked at Freeza with eyes shining, skin glistening from the effort of singing, and undeniably handsome features.

  
'Yes,' Pauli looked down at the orange peel. He squeezed it hard. The bruised flesh sent out more sharp, sweet odors.

  
He appraised Pauli's best friend's talents with poorly disguised admiration. 'You're so lucky,' Trace murmured.


	4. The Grand Tour Decides to Play Monaco- 2013

**The Grand Tour Decides to Play**   
**Monaco- 2013**

  
Monaco was the right place to do this. Freeza decided. It was a special place. It was time the team knew. The older stallions were getting recruited, but no one had bothered with the younger ones, yet. They should know. The Grand Tour should know what Top Gear planned to do. They should be allowed to fight for their freedom.

  
The last of them finished eating and they looked at her.

  
[As lead stallion of the day, I have decided we will fight the handlers.] She stood up, taller than any of them but Xerxes, arms crossed.

  
The stillness was broken by a short, high pitched laugh.

  
Alisar turned and looked at Xerxes.

  
[Okay...] Trace started, slowly. [How do we play that?]

  
Pauli shook his head. He'd never gotten in trouble with the handlers. It would be crazy.

  
[We are going to prove the handlers are bad. This is not a game. There is a group of humans who are working to get Racing Drivers free from the companies. So we can live outside stables, race with our own names, not be beaten, not be starved, not be afraid. The mares have been communicating across all the stables and organizing this, for generations.]

  
[How do you know what the mares do?] Guardian asked.

  
Freeza grimaced. She hadn't intended to tell them she was a mare. There was a pause in which their certainty that she was playing grew.

  
[Obviously they told him about it,] Pauli raised his hands in a question, [Clearly?]

  
Trace was looking at Freeza with his helmet tilted. [Everyone knows the handlers are bad. What is to be proved?]

  
[Matching is so the humans on the sidelines will not know we are not men. They would stop us racing if they knew we were not men. No one makes a secret of this. The men say the humans don't know how badly the handlers treat us, and if they thought the men who they think drive, our men, are treated badly, they would stop the handlers from treating our men badly, but it would really be us they protected.]

  
Xerxes made that strained laughing noise again. [We are pretending the handlers will not break us for this? Or do we just not mind?] The laugh was a little longer this time. Trace put a hand on his back and stroked slow circles until he could choke back the laughter. [I'm not saying I won't do it. Of course I will. I'll have to explain it to Alexander, but he does as he's asked.]

  
Guardian tilted his head. Of course he would do as his lead stallion asked.

  
[Yes,] Pauli said. He might have a harder time convincing Valtteri than Xerxes had confusing Alexander, but Valtteri was a good man, he would want to help Racing Drivers if there was a way it could be done. Freeza believed they had a strong ally in Valtteri.

  
Trace and Alisar nodded together, with usual Ferrari precision.

  
They went back to their stalls early, caught in their own thoughts, and not inclined to stay up and celebrate.

  
After the others had closed themselves into their stalls, Trace laid a hand on Freeza's arm.

  
[I would like to talk to you, stallion, with your permission.] He had been raised with old fashioned good manners. Sometimes he was brazen, which honestly befitted his Ferrari heritage, but at other times he was surprisingly deferent. He either addressed her as Mercedes, as the rival of his stable, or as though Freeza was already a lead stallion.

  
[Of course, Trace.] She paused at the door to her stall.

  
[May I see your face?] He ran his hands one over the other while he waited for her response.

  
She took her helmet off.

  
He followed suit.

  
[Mercedes,] the change to the...informal went with the intimacy of seeing each other eye to eye. He hooked his fingers in the collar of her jumpsuit and pulled her face down to his. [I love you.] He kissed her.

  
She'd always imagined her first kiss would taste like oranges. Instead it tasted like cherries. It sent cool shivers along her wiring.

  
When he pulled away, with a tiny gasp, he took a moment, and then recommended himself a lot by not grinning. He just smiled, genuinely, shyly. [I thought you should know that, if we're going to die. Since we might not make it to our mating.] He still didn't grin, but there was a sparkle in his eyes.

  
How long had he known she and he were going to be together?

  
She chuckled. [Sassy.] She put her helmet back on. [Go to sleep, Ferrari. Monaco tomorrow.]

  
He nodded and backed into his stall. [Goodnight.] He gestured as he closed the door.

  
[Goodnight,] she gestured to the closed hallway.


	5. The Grand Tour Faces Ableism Circuit of the Americas- 2013

**The Grand Tour Faces Ableism**   
**Circuit of the Americas- 2013**

  
[Shut up, Xerxes, no one wants to hear you talk.]

  
It was the drivers meeting. The men were in one room talking and all the drivers were sending openly and having their own drivers meeting. Which was now being ruled by an awkward stillness.

  
[Sorry,] Xerxes murmured, ducking his head.

  
[No, don't let him talk to you like that.] Trace pulled into closer contact with Xerxes' mind. [This is a free discussion, Xerxes can say what he likes.]

  
[He was just going on and on about birds.]

  
[I happen to agree with him,] Trace said with great dignity.

  
[That we should brake for birds?]

  
[He's not wrong, is he?]

  
[When there's birds on the track, they fly away, you don't have to brake for them. Besides, he was just listing types of birds we should brake for!]

  
[Grey birds.] Xerxes said, with a little cringe only Trace was close enough to feel, like he wished he could stop himself. Alisar drew up close to him as well, sending comforting thoughts and images.

  
[Well if it ever DOES come up, I think we'll be glad we've established this.] Trace said.

  
[Those all black birds,] Xerxes strained.

  
Freeza and Guardian were there, now.

  
[You have to brake for animals,] Pauli said. [Everyone knows this. We're HERE to talk about the rules. You have no right to stop him doing what we're all here to do.]

  
[Yeah,] chorused the Grand Tour together.

  
[I think we should move on to another topic,] Sunshine said, looking at Alondra for his agreement.

  
The older stallion nodded. [Tires are going to continue to be a problem, just do your best and keep in contact with your teams...]

  
Sunshine let Alondra take the floor. He watched the huddle of rookies around Xerxes, performing various croonings and pettings. The way they always did when one of his episodes got out of hand.

  
He was listing birds, but it had wound down to a sense that he was pulling the names out with great resistance.

  
[Seagulls,] Xerxes groaned.

  
Sunshine returned his attention to the meeting.

  
[You don't have to do that,] Xerxes said, sitting in Trace's stall when the drivers meeting had ended, when the flock of birds that had risen up in his mind, buffeting him with their wings and making it impossible to focus, had finally settled. He'd let himself in, panic in his eyes, when he had realized he couldn't stop listing birds. They were sitting with intertwined feet, Trace rubbing the webbing between Xerxes's thumb and first finger. He had his chin on his chest but he looked up at Trace through his eyelashes. [Make them pretend I'm okay. Put up with the maniac because he's the only one who can pick locks.]

  
[Your ability to...pick locks,] he fumbled over the unfamiliar term, [Makes the Grand Tour possible. We would still be a team, even without the Grand Tour. Pauli would still be our fearless lead stallion, Freeza would still be our criminal mastermind, Guardian would still be our warrior poet, Alisar would still be our shy group conscience, and you would still be my best friend.] He set Xerxes hand down and reached up to stroke his temples in the way that helped sometimes. [When Petrolio or any of the others thinks they can mess with you, they have to understand they're not just messing with you. They're messing with all of us. We're a team, like no group of rookies ever has been. The old stallions can see we're special. Even the humans can see we're special. You're a part of us, no matter what, and you are the part that makes us capable of doing things no one else can do.]

  
[It's not on purpose.]

  
[I know.]

  
[I wish it would stop.]

  
[I know.]

  
[Do you want to hear a joke?]

  
[Yes.]

  
[So the mechanic goes to the team manager and says I need a wheel nut for a Sauber.]

  
[Yes?]

  
[The team manager says that sounds like a fair trade.]

  
Trace laughed. [That one was actually funny.] He hugged Xerxes. [We'll be alright.]

  
[We'll do our best,] Xerxes agreed.


	6. The Grand Tour According to the Matches Silverstone- 2014

**The Grand Tour According to the Matches**   
**Silverstone- 2014**

  
No one would confuse Valtteri with the most popular guy on the grid. He talked with Daniil Kvyat sometimes. Pauli told him that Daniil would be an Orange if he were a Racing Driver.

  
Valtteri was probably more of a White than an Orange.

  
Pauli's friendship with the other rookies forced the issue of friendship for their men. In some incredibly awkward ways.

 

Circuit Gilles Villeneuve- 2013

  
Valtteri was usually content to overlook the events of the Grand Tour entirely. He was usually content to clear up any aftermath and the less said the better. He was usually content to let the other matches come to him with questions and comments.

  
This was too much to suppress his curiosity about.

  
Esteban looked up at him. Val handed him a coffee the way Alisar had told Pauli that Esteban liked it, when Val had gotten him to ask.

  
"I don't really want to ask," he said, defensively.

  
Esteban looked immediately guilty.

  
"Was Pauli the only one this morning whose shoes and shorts were full of glitter?"

  
The look on the other match's face confirmed that Valtteri was not the only one who had a bathroom floor covered in metallic sparkles this morning.

 

Buddh International Circuit- 2013

  
"They toured the track?" Jean-Eric scrunched his face up. "What?"

  
"It's just called the Grand Tour because they're young heirs visiting all the great cultural places of the world," Max said. "It's a British thing."

  
"They do this at all the tracks?" Jean-Eric asked.

  
Max, Jules, Giedo, Alexander, Esteban and Val shuffled their feet and gestured answers in a variety of shrugs and nods.

  
"If it's always just your rookies, why did they take Jev with them? He was half asleep all morning."

  
They all looked at Jules. He frowned back.

  
"Well," he sighed, "You see, the guys thought it would be nice to invite Trace's brother to go with them."

 

Monaco Grand Prix Circuit- 2014

  
Giedo sidled up to him, shoulders hunched. He was wearing an unsuitable hat and enormous sunglasses. There was washed out black marker on his cheek.

  
"Hey, Val?"

  
"Yes?"

  
"I scrubbed Guardian with everything I could think of."

  
Valtteri continued looking out on the track, face unmoving. "Yes?" He prompted when Giedo didn't say anything further.

  
"What did you use to get all that black marker off Pauli?"

  
"Baby oil."

 

 

Circuit Gilles Villeneuve- 2014

  
[Valtteri! I don't LIKE THAT.] Pauli ducked out of the way of the can Val was aiming at him.

  
[Tough, you smell like you fell in a garlic press, this will cover the smell.] Valtteri grabbed his hands and maneuvered him into place.

  
Pauli frowned deeply, [No. Now I just smell like garlic AND aerosol rose spray.]

 

Silverstone- 2014

  
Jules had only been able to find Alexander, Giedo, Esteban and Val. He crossed his arms and glared at them. "Which of your guys BIT Trace's chest and clawed up his back?"

  
Valtteri thought about situations that might result in someone having bite marks on his chest and fingernail scratches on his back. He blushed. Something was getting lost in translation.

  
"Uh, Jules...none of them went on The Tour last night. The only ones at the stable were Trace and Freeza," Giedo said. That was true, for various reasons, the other 4 had been either late arriving or staying at alternate facilities.

  
"But...Max said Freeza has bite marks, too, and bruises on his hips.."

  
Valtteri's eyes widened.

  
They were all silent for a long time, then Alexander said. "At least he's not out cruising bars..."

  
"Just the same, though," said Geido, being everybody's big brother, "You might want to get him some rubbers."

  
"I have some in my bag you can give to him." Esteban piped up. He fished out 10 or 15 loose condoms and put all but two of them on the table in front of Jules. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled another one back.

  
Alexander giggled and fistbumped him. "Good for you, dude."

  
Jules watched the two of them with his mouth open.

  
Valtteri decided it was time to do something. Jules was clearly out of his depth, this was a really awkward situation, they had all been sort of thrown into being in each other's company, and now it had turned serious. Val stood up. Jules really needed someone to say a few well chosen words of sense to him. God knew he wasn't going to get any sense from those three.

  
'I hope someone says something soon.' He thought as he slipped out the door and walked down the hallway back towards the William's garage.

  
"Bottas," a voice called in a Finnish accent. Val sped up. Oh no.

  
Kimi jogged up beside him. "Jaamies told me the news...I always knew that club of yours was a bad idea."

  
Val couldn't figure out what Kimi was talking about. Unless he meant the Grand Tour. It was annoying, but Pauli was happier the day after the tour than any day ever, except race days. "What news?"

  
"That Max and Freeza are going to Ferrari for winter testing, so she can give birth there, because Ferrari's got stud rights to her foal. Is Mika very upset? If you two want to come by and talk to us..."

  
"Why would Mika..." Fuck, "Pauli be upset?" Freeza's having a foal? Mare?

  
Kimi looked at him. His lips pressed shut and his fingers moved minutely. Valtteri read the words without thinking. [Because she is in love with Mika.]

  
Who? Freeza? Max's Freeza? The tall blond guy was in love with Valtteri's Racing Driver? That didn't make any sense, then why was he...she...biting Trace?

  
And why would Ferrari have rights to a Mercedes mare's foals? Stud rights. Oh god.

  
Valtteri turned towards Pauli's stall blindly and took two running steps before being clotheslined by a low hanging sign.

  
He opened his eyes to splitting pain and Kimi's face leaning over him, which made it worse. He groaned.

  
"You smashed your face," eloquent Kimi as always. "Don't sit up."

  
Valtteri had had enough knocks to the head in his life to know that much, at least. He lay on his back on the dirty floor and looked at the ceiling. He couldn't even involve himself in Jules feeling awkward about his Racing Driver getting close to a buddy. How had Trace gotten Freeza pregnant without Jules knowing? Matches always knew about stud trips.

  
Unless your Racing Drivers habitually ran around together alone in the middle of the night. Kimi was right, the Grand Tour had turned out to be a bad thing.

  
How was he going to talk to Pauli about this? Pauli was sure to have more of an emotional reaction than Jules had. How was Val expected to handle this? He looked up and caught Kimi's eye again.

  
Was that how? Was he supposed to accept Kimi's help?


	7. Rain in Suzuka Suzuka- 2014

**Rain in Suzuka**   
**Suzuka- 2014**

  
It was raining in Suzuka.

  
Adrian Sutil's Racing Driver, Steuern, spun out.

  
It was dramatic, but he was clear of his car, the car was out of the way.

  
Jules was watching the monitor, at the side of the garage, just like every other race of their career.

  
'Hey, that was a great line on that corner. Are you still comfortable with this pace? The rain is getting worse.'

  
Trace was concentrating. 'Yes, this is alright. Tires are getting warm.'

  
'Okay. Keep sharp, love.'

  
Trace went high into Dunlop, and suddenly felt the little jerk of lost traction.

  
He tested the wheels, no reaction. The car was hydroplaning. He hit the accelerator, no reaction, no increased grip. He was off the track, now. At this angle, he was going to clip that machine lifting Steuern's car off the grass. Best case scenario, he was having the wall.

  
He sighed. There hadn't been that many laps left, it would have nice to have kept his car intact. He slammed his feet onto the accelerator and the brake to activate the brake fail safe. It didn't engage. He waited a moment, he was still moving very quickly toward the machine. His trajectory had changed slightly when he'd tried to engage the brakes. He was heading even more for the machine, now. Maybe the brakes would engage if he kept holding the pedals down. He felt fear climbing up his spine, scrunching him down in the seat. He felt his eyes going wide. He was definitely going to hit the machine. He could tell where his car's nose would end up, how the machine was going to slide up the nose. 'It's going to hit me.' He thought. He got as low in the seat as he could, but there was really no room.

  
Not slowing down enough.

  
Not slowing down at all.

  
The fear clawed around his throat, choking off a cry. He could feel the Racing Drivers behind him. He turned to them. Reached out and clutched at them.

  
Then it hurt.

  
Just for a moment.

  
\--

  
Jules was standing in the garage by himself. He was wearing a red and white uniform, just like the rest of the crew. They were going about their business. More and more of them were turning to the monitor. A red car was crammed under the track crane. That was strange. That car shouldn't be there. It should be on the track.

  
He looked closer. The cockpit was blocked by the crane. That Racing Driver was going to have a hard time getting out. That car shouldn't have parked there. What a silly place to park.

  
There was a low scream from the next garage. Another crew member in a red and white uniform, a tall, thin guy, with his face covered, was holding his hands to his head. "Pass me the pain. I'll take it, don't worry I'll take it, just don't YOU crash. Pass me the pain." He said.

  
Jules could hear his voice. Could hear the strain in his voice. That sounded like Max. His friend Max. He should go make sure Max was okay.

  
He couldn't take his eyes off the monitor, though.

  
He wanted to laugh. That was just a BAD place to park. Whoever parked there...had obviously not thought about it. Trace would have something to say about that parking. He would make some dry comment that would make everyone laugh. He could always make Jules laugh. A laugh would stop this dry aching in his throat. Jules looked around the garage for him. He should come look at this funny parking.

  
He didn't see him anywhere. He felt around in his mind. There wasn't anything in range.

  
Oh, right, they were at the track. Trace was racing. He must be out of range.

  
Jules looked out the front of the garage to watch the cars go by. There was the red and white one. 'Trace!' He called. 'Come here. I want you to see this.'

  
No, that wasn't right, he couldn't stop racing. He had to keep racing until the race was over. That wasn't his helmet, anyway, it was white. That was Freeza's helmet. Trace's helmet was red.

  
He looked back on the monitor. Trace was going to miss everything if he didn't come back in.

  
There was a red helmet in the car under the crane.

  
It looked a lot like Trace's helmet, but Trace would never park that badly. He was very precise.

  
An arm grabbed Jules' arm. Someone said something and tried to pull him away from his spot in front of the monitor.

  
He jerked his arm free, hard. "No. I have to watch," he murmured. Besides, if he went off somewhere, how would Trace find him when he got back?

  
The pulling was insistent. Alright. He would just go for a moment.

  
The man in the white and red uniform made Jules climb up into the back of a van.

  
"Hello," he said to the woman with the red cross on her shirt in his best English. "I'm Jules Bianchi, I drive for Marussia." He shook her hand.

  
They drove a little way and the woman stood and opened the doors. He stood up to help her but she touched his chest gently and pointed back to the seat. "You wait here, out of sight, Mr Bianchi." He looked around. This was an ambulance. It was warm inside. Warmer than the garage, which was open to the weather.

  
The doors opened with a gust of cold wind and the woman and a man with a red cross on his shirt, red and white, like Marussia colors, lifted a stretcher in.

  
There was a blanket over the guy. It was nice of them to keep him dry in the rain. When you were hurt, getting cold was no fun.

  
He looked out the back of the ambulance. There was that crane from the monitor. There was that red and white car parked under it. It was really broken up. Whoever they'd pulled out of there hadn't climbed out on his own. Not out of that crushed red and white Marussia car.

  
Hand over hand he pulled the white blanket, speckled with little spots of red, off the side of the stretcher.

  
He bit his lips between his teeth. Oh, Trace. You missed the end of the race.

  
Trace's face was hard to recognize, especially through the blur of tears.

  
Jules raised his fluttering hands, clasped them together for a moment, and raised them again.

  
[That was not good parking, Trace.] He frowned. He put his hands to his mouth. [That's not like you. What happened?] He shook his head. [You're usually so responsible, why would you let this happen?] Jules' throat was hurting. It felt swollen. The rain was making him sick. [I'm not going to be mad about the car. I just want you to be okay. That was too fast into the corner.] He stroked one hand down Trace's arm. The muscles were loose under the race suit. [Now, we've talked about cornering so hard, before. It's my fault, really. I should have had you slow down. There are only a couple laps left, keeping up the lap times wasn't worth putting you in danger. Okay?]

  
His mouth pursed and tightened as he touched Trace's face. [You look a mess. We're going to the hospital, now. I'll stay with you when we get there.] He picked up Trace's hand and patted it. [I'll take care of you.] He thought about the scene in the garage. Max's cry for Freeza. [Freeza was very worried about you. I'll have someone tell Max where we're going.] He squeezed Trace's hand.

  
He looked at the medic lady. "Please make sure my teammate knows where we are. He will be worried. His name is Max Chilton. He drives for Marussia. He's a tall blonde man. He is very nice, he won't send you away when you talk to him, don't worry. He is always stopping to talk to fans." He smiled down at Trace. "Max will want to know where we are. He will be worried."

  
The track medic nodded at him. "Of course, Mr Bianchi, we'll let him know. We'll let your team manager know, too, alright? Mr O'Neill?" She smiled, weakly.

  
"Thank you." He didn't look up from his other self's face.

  
[Okay, I told the lady to let Max know. He'll tell Freeza. She can tell the rest of the Grand Tour. They should all know, right? Your friends? They should know. They would want to know.] His face twisted again. [They'll wonder, otherwise. Where you went.] He wiped at his tears. [They'll wonder why you're not coming back. Oh Trace!] He buried his face against his Racing Driver's chest where no heartbeat sounded in time with his own, and gave in to the sobs.

  
'Why aren't you coming back?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forza Jules


	8. Breaking the Grand Tour Russia- 2014

**Breaking the Grand Tour**   
**Russia- 2014**

  
There were five of them at the next race, instead of 6, and that made sense, but there were only 5 men as well, and that didn't.

  
No one had heard from Jules.

  
Alisar, Guardian, Freeza, Pauli and Xerxes were huddled in the kitchen of the track-side stable in Russia. They kept milling around and holding hands and leaning on each other, then milling and holding hands and leaning on each other. Jules didn't have to be at the race, but he should have been somewhere, and all five men had tried to find him, even Valtteri. He wasn't where they said he was. Max had gone to check, Geido had gone to check, and at Jev's insistence, Jean-Eric had gone to check. Jules wasn't where he was supposed to be.

  
They all knew where Trace was.

  
They'd all felt THAT.

  
But where was his man?

  
[The company made Max take pictures coming out of the medical place, to make people think Jules was inside,] Freeza updated them.

  
[Geido, too,] Guardian agreed.

  
Xerxes was staring at Freeza, distracted. [Do they talk at night?] he asked.

  
Freeza looked at him. [Yes.]

  
[Do they keep you awake?]

  
Freeza sighed. [No. They will get louder after the season.]

  
Xerxes opened and closed his gloved hand, restraining his impulse to reach out. He looked up at Guardian, then Pauli and finally back to Freeza. [Do you just talk to them all the time? I would talk to them all the time.]

  
Freeza sighed again and the undirected contented feeling of the two baby Racing Drivers inside her damped down to in-audibility. [No. I don't need to talk to them all the time, they hear us talking, they are too small to understand. No, you may not touch my belly.]

  
[I didn't ask!] Xerxes, impulsive and eager to share his happiness with everyone around him, had learned his lesson about stroking pregnant Racing Mares' bellies the first time he'd realized Freeza was pregnant.

  
[We could ask the Stig to have his men find out.] Alisar suggested.

  
[Will they, though? Why would Top Gear,] the gesture meant the highest speed a car will go, but it also meant the last chance, the future, and anger, like a fist slamming into a wall, [Do us a favor? We're just a bunch of colts.] Guardian asked.

  
[No,] Pauli corrected, [We are the Grand Tour. We are the heirs to the stables' next great Championships...] he paused, because Trace had been most of their claim to being the heirs of the next generation of Championships, and now he wasn't a part of the Grand Tour anymore. No. To hell with that! Trace had been part of the Grand Tour and he would always BE a part of the Grand Tour. [We are young and in possession of unprecedented talent. We aren't divided by stable loyalties. We are as powerful as we make ourselves.]

  
[We will find out where Jules is. There are Racing Drivers everywhere there is FIA. We will find out.] Freeza stood by Pauli's side.

  
The kitchen door opened and men poured in. As one, the Grand Tour stepped together. Faced the handlers defiantly.

  
[Looks like some of the livestock has escaped their pens,] gestured one of them. [This little show of defiance is over.]

  
Defiance. Animals don't defy. People defy. 'You aren't even pretending you don't know.' Pauli thought, disgusted by this. They all knew what was coming next. Why didn't the bastards just set on them with the truncheons? Why mock them with speech?

  
When it happened, he would try to distract them from Freeza. She could handle herself as well as any of them, but the men couldn't hear her sweet babies inside her, and mares could lose babies when they were beaten. The others evidently had the same thought, because Xerxes moved away from her to draw the men towards him. Guardian pushed Alisar and Freeza behind him. Alisar wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, chest to chest. Guardian stepped forward. There was a reason he always walked behind. For times like this. If they were in the open, the rest of them would be running, but there was only one way out of the kitchen, and the men filled it.

  
Guardian liked jokes. Trace usually told them, because Freeza was no good at jokes.

  
'How do you fit a tall thing in the sleeping cupboard?' Pauli blurted.

  
Guardian smiled. They all knew this one. It was Xerxes' favorite joke. 'You open the door and push him in.' He laughed, and the handlers surged forwards.

 

The next thing Pauli could really focus on was Freeza HURTING the handlers who were trying to hold her, because they obviously weren't willing to hurt her. Pauli was glad.

  
The next thing was Xerxes- being held down and screaming in one handed gestures that they couldn't do this because he had to race. One of the handlers gestured back that he wouldn't be racing anytime soon, then he brought the end of his truncheon down on each of Xerxes fingers.

  
Pauli only heard the first three crunches before a particularly hard blow to the face made him see sparks.

  
The next thing he knew he had blood in his eyes.

  
Then he was waking up in his stall, with only faded bruising.

  
It took awhile before he could summon the courage. He pushed himself to a sitting position on the cold floor and reached out and touched the strongest Racing Driver he could. Professor was obviously waiting for him. 'Stallion?'

  
Professor sounded like he'd been crying. 'I'm glad you woke up, Mika.'

  
'What happened to my friends?' He wrung his bare hands. He was only wearing his shorts and undershirt.

  
'They are all at their own stables. They all woke up before you did.'

  
He waited for more of an answer. He should get up and put a jumpsuit and his helmet on, but he couldn't find the strength just now.

  
'They had to keep you under all the way through the next race.' There was something hollow behind the sending.

  
'Is my team angry?'

  
'Disappointed in your irresponsibility. You will have to speak to Mancha yourself.'

  
'Of course, stallion. How did Gazelle do in the race?' Mancha was likely far more than disappointed in Pauli, but Professor wouldn't say that.

  
'Gazelle didn't take your seat, Valtteri did.'

  
Valtteri.

  
'Is he safe?' The idea of humans in F1 cars scared him, badly. The idea of his diamond in an F1 car, maybe crashing, maybe getting hurt, made his belly knot.

  
'He stood on the lowest podium, under Snap and Prince.' Racing Drivers who couldn't count refered to position relative to other Drivers. Lowest podium was third.

  
Relief flooded him. Valtteri was safe. Third, though? 'Ah,' he said. He remembered his dam spanking his hands once before he was weaned because he made a disparaging remark about someone. Third, though? He must have had trouble with the car.

  
'It is a strong finish for a human.' Professor could hear the disappointment in what little Pauli HAD sent, apparently.

  
'Valtteri is faster than third.' Pauli flicked his fingers along the backs of his wrists dismissively.

  
'Really...You know, I know young stallions like to dream about their men as teammates, but you may not have a clear perspective on this.'

  
Pauli shook his head. He wouldn't argue with the lead stallion. Professor wouldn't understand that in practice Valtteri outpaced Q and Gazelle every time. That his lap times were actually better than Pauli's in traffic. He wasn't dreaming when he imagined his partner in F1. At least, the unrealistic thing was not that Valtteri was fast enough. He knew full well a human wouldn't be allowed to drive in F1, not really. Not for more than something like this, covering for an absence that couldn't adequately be explained.

  
If Valtteri wasn't fast, the team would have sent him out for a few laps and fabricated some sort of car difficulty. Rather a non-finish than a non-start.

  
'Mika. The handlers are angry. They found out about your outings. This will not be allowed anymore. I understand high spirits, colts flagging their tails, but...there will be no more opportunities for you to leave your stalls in the night.'

  
Pauli's lip quirked. They would just have to be more unpredictable.

  
'You think I am being an old stallion and trying to spoil your fun. This is serious. Your doors are being changed. Even if your friend regains the fine movement in his hands, he won't be able to open them.'

  
Xerxes. The crunch of bone. Over and over and over. 'What did they do?!'

  
'They broke all the little bones in his hands. Alain says the medics think he will race again. He may have trouble holding spoons.'

  
Pauli covered his mouth. He thought of Xerxes' fast, dexterous hands. The way he could do tricks with the cards and dice Alexander gave him to carry with him. The crunch of bones between the end of the truncheon and the concrete of the floor.

  
Oh no.

  
'Freeza was pregnant. Did they hurt her? Did they kill her babies??'

  
'Freeza is still pregnant.' There was something behind the sending again.

  
'For the rookies, the season is over. You will race, Alisar will race. The others have been sent back to their stables. Freeza and Guardian will not be invited to return to Formula 1.'

  
No. Freeza was going to be a Champion. She'd overcome being a single track Driver to get to F1. Freeza was going to be the best. Freeza was the best driver out of ALL of the rookies. They were going to be on a team and they were going to be the new Courage and Endurance. She was going to Ferrari. She and Trace were going to be lead stallions in the Big stable.

  
He slumped onto his back again, stared up at the ceiling with his knees bent. She lived at a different stable. How was he going to see his best friend when she wasn't at the same races? Even without the Grand Tour, they'd have been able to send to one another, and see each other on the grid.

  
Who was going to encourage Guardian? Who was going to cuddle Alisar when he got scared? Who was going to fix Xerxes with that patient stare and pull him out of the flock of birds? Who was going to tell the rookies stories about Trace?

  
Who was going to be Pauli's best friend ever?


	9. Surviving FIA Global Training Facility (FIA Stables)- 2015

**Surviving**   
**FIA Global Training Facility (FIA Stables)- 2015**

  
The thing Valtteri remembered most clearly, after Jules Bianchi's funeral, was the faces. Mostly he remembered the kid's. It was his first real season. He was 17. He hadn't really had anything to do with Jules. They had called all the drivers into a separate room, before the service started; there were 40 of them, crammed into a room that wouldn't have held 25 comfortably.

  
The team principles came into the room.

  
Giedo came in with them and stood to one side, head down.

  
"We're all here today to celebrate the tragedy of Jules Bianchi's death." Toto Wolff, of Mercedes, said. Toto was Valtteri's manager, but mostly, he ran the Mercedes team. He was married to Susie, too. Her Racing Driver was the test driver at Williams. Val glanced over at her, she had her eyes on the ground. He looked forward again.

  
Ahead of Val and just to the side of where he was standing, back against the side wall, so Val had a clear view of his face, Max Verstappen, the new driver, the teenager, made a confused expression.

  
Why wasn't Arrivabene speaking? Val wondered. Ferrari always took charge at these things. The older man was just standing there, watching Wolff speak.

  
"Now as you may know, at last year's Japanese Grand Prix, we lost Trace, Jules' Racing Driver. He was taken to the hospital, but unfortunately, we were unable to save him. We were all ready to release the news of the accident to the press, and hold a press conference to address Jules' good fortune in surviving. He would have had to spend a few weeks in the hospital acquiring scars appropriate to his surviving such a serious accident, and he would have been released from his obligation to us." He smiled wickedly.

  
Max looked around like he was checking other people's reaction to this information. The rest of them were familiar with this scenario. Every few years someone's Racing Driver had a career ending accident and the public wasn't told the real reason for the retirement. The year the rookies had started it had been Vitaly Petrov's Racing Driver, Vesti. He hadn't died, but he could no longer race. Vitaly's career was over, FIA had released him and he was free to go about his life as he liked. Without ever seeing his other half again, even though Vesti was alive and at a holding facility somewhere. This was not the first time any of them had heard FIA make an example of someone, except Max.

  
Except that it had been 20 years since a driver had to be publically acknowledged to have died.

  
"Jules could have had his precious freedom, but, selfishly, he decided he couldn't wait for us to make our announcement. He decided that it wouldn't matter if we had to explain that one of our drivers had died during a race. It is not good for the sport for drivers to be dying as a result of crashes. The public don't LIKE it. They like crashes that don't result in loss of human life. Not that they ever do, but we like to oblige them, all the same."

  
Max's mouth dropped open.

  
On his right, Felipe Massa had his hands fisted. When his Mancha had crashed in 2009, Felipe had not only nearly lost his partner, but gone through the surgical scarring required to keep him looking identical to his partner. That year, Felipe had BEEN the example FIA held up to the other matches.

  
Well, one of them.

  
Valtteri looked at Max Chilton, Jules' teammate. Freeza had been Trace's mate; apparently the cross gender matched Racing Driver had been pregnant with Trace's foals when Trace died last year. Max was gritting his teeth.

  
"Instead of being patient, helpful, and Obedient, Jules decided to rebel against his obligation. He tried to kill himself."

  
There were gasps. The teenager was looking confused again.

  
"Matches become very attached to their animals. We understand that. We sympathize. It's hard to lose a pet," Toto went on.

  
For some reason, Valtteri 's attention this time was caught by Kimi Raikkonen. Non-Finns said Finns were blank faced and hard to read, but it was easy for other Finns to read them. Valtteri could always tell when Kimi was mad about a shunt, or a result. Now, Kimi's face was smooth, like this was having no effect on him. Like he was completely unmoved. Like he couldn't care less that his Jaamies had just been compared to a lap dog. Everyone knew he was a Trainer, now. Maybe he really was heartless.

  
"We wouldn't have stopped him from pursuing his cowardly impulse, to throw his life away. He COULD have had a place in FIA, or another career of his choice. Instead he chose to leave us in the lurch. Fortunately, he was discovered, rescued."

  
Uh oh.

  
"For the last 9 months he has been living in a FIA facility. Where we have been helping see the error of his selfish choices."

  
Teenage Max looked relieved.

  
To Val's left, Fernando and Jenson exchanged scared glances. Jensen leaned down and took Fernando's hand. They both looked past him at Felipe, who made agonized eye contact and then looked away again. There were a lot of people looking for his reaction.

  
Val's eye was drawn back to Kimi. His teammate was hiding his face against his chest. Kimi had his arm around Sebastian's back, Seb's head tucked under his chin, he still looked blank, his hand curled protectively at the back of Seb's head. Valtteri's eyes were not the only ones on the Ferrari team, everyone who wasn't looking at Felipe was looking at Sebastian. Everyone knew about Sebastian and Michael's friendship. Everyone knew that Ferrari hadn't been allowed to win a championship since Michael had to be punished.

  
The drivers had still been reeling from Felipe's accident and FIA's assurance that, should any of their Racing Drivers die, they would no longer required to have any involvement in their current life and would be sent away to live quietly, where the media would lose interest in anything they had to say. In any stories they might like to tell. Then during winter break, they'd been called together again. The day after Michael Schumacher's 'accident' was on the news. They were told that Michael had been in an accident, been paralyzed, lost his ability to speak. They'd been allowed plenty of time to realise no number of Championships would protect them.

  
Valtteri hadn't even been matched when this happened, but he'd heard the whispered story, heard it even from Felipe, who'd been Michael's last teammate.

  
The room had gone silent when the team principles explained that, despite Michael's appearance on television portraying a fictional "Racing Driver" character, FIA would graciously be paying to maintain his condition.

  
Felipe had blanched and repeated the words. "Maintain his condition."

  
They all knew it was Shoe, of course. It was confirmed when one driver after another went to visit "Michael" as he "recovered." Felipe had gone himself. Had seen the telltale differences, had gestured hopeless comfort to the Racing Driver who could never speak back.

  
After letting the memories, both first and second hand, settle in the room, Toto went on, "Despite our best efforts to prolong his life, Jules' wish to die was finally granted."

  
Max Chilton made a noise like he was screaming in the back of his throat, and trying not to let it go any further. Esteban and Alexander squeezed his hands. Valtteri stepped forward and put his hand on Max's shoulder. Geido squeezed his eyes tight shut.

  
"Mr van der Garde, as a reward for his dogged determination in pursuing his seat with Sauber, despite all..." Toto made an ugly face, "Unfortunate deterrents, was allowed to visit Jules, before the end." He patted Giedo on the back so hard the taller man took a step forward. "We would like him to tell you what Jules' had learned, and how SORRY he was that he had been so thoughtless and selfish."

  
Geido's head snapped up. He had tears on his cheeks. He stared at Toto and shook his head.

  
"Go ahead, Giedo. Tell them how he was when you saw him. After 5 months in our care."

  
He put his head back down and shook it.

  
"Come on, now. Do as you're told. We don't need anymore selfishness, do we?"

  
The drivers all winced.

  
"I saw Jules, back in March." His voice was low, whispered. The room was silent, though, so it was as loud as a shout. "He told me he sorry..." His voice caught in his throat.

  
The next nearest team principal, Christian Horner, elbowed him. "Sorry what?"

  
"Sorry for being thoughtless and selfish. Sorry he couldn't stand it without Trace. Sorry he was too much of a coward to wait just until after the press conference." The last part came out cracked. He was shaking.

  
"Tell them how he looked, Giedo. Look up." Toto told him.

  
Giedo raised streaming eyes to the crowd of drivers.

  
Teenage Max cringed and looked down.

  
"Look at them while you tell them how Jules looked after surviving his accident."

  
After Valtteri saw Pauli, the next time, he could never remember the specifics of the atrocities, the mutilation Giedo had been forced to ascribe to the crash Jules hadn't even been in. The memory was locked behind a wall his partner built into his mind to protect him. What he did remember was the way the 17 year old boy had shivered and grimaced, but didn't give in to the tears until almost all the others had.

  
The other face he remembered was Kimi's. Other than a severe expression when Sebastian looked up and made eye contact with him, he was totally blank. He didn't even care that they were saying goodbye to one of their own.

  
The Iceman really was heartless.


	10. Indycar Is Different Indycar- 2016

**Indycar Is Different**   
**Indycar Winter Testing- 2016**

  
His first day in the Indycar paddock had gone really well. The weather was good, the car was friendly, his teammates were very nice, his hands didn't hurt too badly, and he felt confident about the rest of the season, and his life away from F1. When he saw Alexander, who was still in his crew gear, he grabbed him in a hug and nuzzled his face into his neck. He was purring in delight. 'Today was so good, Alexander. I love this car. I'm so happy. Maybe things can be alright again. We...'

  
There was human laughter.

  
Not nice laughter.

  
Xerxes turned and looked at the men watching them.

  
Alexander was embarrassed, suddenly.

  
Why were those men laughing and sneering?

  
He could see red creeping up Alexander's cheeks. He was still holding him around the waist, but Alexander had dropped his arms. [We can't do that, here, buddy.]

  
Why was Alexander calling him buddy? Alexander always called him love.

  
Xerxes eyes snapped back to the human men. Their unmatched, undirected body language was, nevertheless, radiating disdain. Disgust.

  
Because he loved Alexander? They were one self, they were supposed to love. Not like mates, like a self. What was going on, here?

  
He felt the flock of birds rise up in the back of his mind. He'd felt them a lot since the end of the Grand Tour, but now at least his treacherous hands couldn't let them out of his fingers and make him say words he wasn't thinking and didn't mean. Alexander sensed the birds and took him by the arm and led him away.

  
Everything was a whirl of birds for awhile. When they settled down, again, they were in the motorhome and he had a cool towel on the back of his neck.

  
That had been a bad one, then.

  
[You ok, love?] Alexander asked. He was sitting in front of where Xerxes was sitting with his head between his knees. He was stroking his back, which felt nice.

  
'They laughed at us.' He had his hands tucked in the backs of his knees. He'd learned to do it to keep them from talking, but now it was a good place to keep them so no one could see them.

  
[Things are different, here. They show their love differently. With pats on the back and things, not with cuddles. We'll have to do things their way for now.]

  
There was no heart left in Xerxes. There hadn't been since the day they dragged him away from his team, his unconscious lead stallion, his raging lead mare, three handlers with batons beating their warrior down, their healer throwing himself uselessly against the choke chain, and the last living remains of Xerxes' best friend gone missing. His career had been a tattered ruin, too, he found out, later. After he woke up from the surgeries that didn't quite save his hands. Those things didn't matter, though. The handlers had killed the Grand Tour, and Xerxes had no heart left to care about the racing, or his voice. There was no one left to talk to, anymore.

  
If he'd had a heart, watching Alexander tell him they couldn't cuddle anymore would have been too much.

  
He had no heart left.

  
Nothing left to break.

 

  
**Firestone Grand Prix of St Petersburg- 2016**

  
One of the bond pairs DID cuddle. He watched them, enviously. Why did their love not turn offensive, here?

  
He watched Pippa stroke Verdura's long, blonde hair. He wondered why more Drivers didn't wear their hair long. They would look prettier. He thought of Prince with long hair and his skin got hot and he had to adjust his pockets. He swallowed a few times. Prince didn't have long hair, though. She had short hair, like Nico. She looked pretty even with short hair. Even prettier than Verdura.

  
Verdura was more wonderful, though.

  
'Xerxes,' Alexander sent. 'What are you doing? I'm trying to focus.'

  
He looked over at Alexander. His hand was up the back of Alexander's head, buried in his hair, stroking and teasing it. Oh. Oops.

  
He pulled his hand back and tucked it under his knee.

  
'Why are mares so beautiful?' He asked.

  
'You should go talk to her,' He answered, without looking up from his paperwork. 'I've seen her look at you. She'd like you to talk to her. You're one of the handsomest stallions on the grid, and one of the only ones to have driven F1. That carries weight, even here. Even if they pretend like it doesn't.'

  
Alexander was usually right, so he almost always listened to his advice. Xerxes stood up and walked over to the two. 'Hello. You have beautiful hair. It is very long. It is nice that you and your match cuddle. Alexander and I used to cuddle, but we don't anymore, because the people here don't like it. So we stand close by and have pats on the back.'

  
The two blonde females looked up at him.

  
[Hello,] Gestured the woman.

  
[Hello,] Gestured the mare. 'Why don't you and your man cuddle anyway? Humans don't know what is right for bond pairs, they shouldn't be allowed to interfere. You need your man's love. It is alright. Thank you for saying my hair is beautiful. It IS long, isn't it?'

  
He nodded. 'Yes.'

  
'You have nice black hair and sparkly eyes. It is nice of you to come and talk to me.'

  
The woman patted her Racing Driver on the shoulder and stood up off the wall they were sitting on. [Goodbye,] She gestured to Xerxes.

  
He nodded, but didn't raise his hands up where she could see them.

  
'She is going back to talk to the crew,' Verdura explained. 'I would like you to sit and talk to me.' She patted the wall beside her.

  
'Alright.' Xerxes sat down.

  
He talked to Verdura a lot, after that. They liked to say hello when they woke up and goodnight when they went to sleep.

  
Then at the first race of the year, a familiar female voice came into his head, but it was not Verdura.

  
'How are you getting by?' Freeza asked. It had been a long time since he'd felt the White mare's presence.

  
'STALLION!' He forgot himself and yelled.

  
Freeza just laughed. 'I'm so glad to see you, Redbull.'

  
He practically ran to her garage the minute he had a free moment. As he approached, he saw Freeza standing beside her car and he waved hugely. Three stallions saw him and came out of the garage between them. They were all much older than he was and bristling with aggression. Xerxes didn't notice this.

  
[Who are you?] The middle sized one, the one with the most wins, demanded.

  
'I'm Xerxes,' He sent, in a pleasant way, where anyone could hear him. 'Hello.'

  
[What are you doing over here?]

  
'I came to see Freeza,' He started.

  
Freeza, as a matter of fact, was on the way over. The tall, thin white Racing Driver stood between Xerxes and the champion stallion who was her teammate. She looked down at him with tight lips. He stepped back.

  
[Aren't you the one who's always too scared to let go of your match's hand?] The bigger one sniped. He was the biggest of the 3, but not as tall as Xerxes.

  
'Yeah, that's me. Alexander and I love each other and we like to show it.' Xerxes explained.

  
The little one looked like he was going to say something, but Freeza stepped close to him, nose twitching, mouth drawn back. He stepped away as well.

  
[Racing Drivers worth their salt don't need to be clinging to their match like colts...] The big one looked up and saw Freeza, who was taller than he by the width of his hand, staring down at him with narrowed eyes.

  
Freeza raised her eyebrows in a question.

  
He stepped back.

  
'No, we don't need to, but it's important that a Racing Driver and his match remember to keep in close alignment. It helps when you can touch them, because then they can understand better,' He went on, 'Hello, Freeza!' He looked over at the White mare, who was at his side, looking him in the face, now. 'I missed you!' He grabbed her and gathered her into a big hug where he pressed his face to her shoulder and smiled blissfully and rocked side to side. She was just his height.

  
'Hello, Xerxes,' She took his arm. 'Let's go over by the grass. I want to see if there are any of those all black birds there.'

  
'Okay, stallion! Bye guys, it was nice to meet you,' He sent to Freeza's three teammates, who were all but huddling as they watched the two go.

  
Freeza cast a look back at them, and they all raised their hands.

  
[Bye Xerxes.]

  
[Bye.]

  
[It was nice meeting you.]

  
Their three men were watching, too. "Geeze," Said Scott Dixon, matched to the strongest of the three Racing Drivers, "No wonder they call her Mama Bear."

  
From the back of the garage, there was a snort. Max Chilton watched his Racing Driver lead the big Black away. Then he turned back to his work.

 

  
**Indianapolis Motor Speedway- 2016**

  
'Why doesn't he ever talk? He's such a freak.'

  
'If that White wasn't constantly guarding him, I'd have taught him a lesson a long time ago.'

  
'Yeah, don't mess with her. One of my teammates says she has a say in what Top Gear does, and if you mess with her, they won't take you along when they come get everyone out of the stables. You won't get to be in the meadow.'

  
'Forget the meadow, I'm pretty sure she'll just explode and bash your head in. She doesn't like anyone messing with him.'

  
'He gets worse when you mess with him.'

  
'He's always got his hands on his match.'

  
'The mares always have their hands on HIM.'

  
'You are all idiots. He is nice. He's not the same as anyone, but he's never been mean to you, I KNOW that.' Taku shook his head.

  
Dilly, from Jonathan Byrd Racing sent, suddenly, standing up. [Bryan LIKES it when I hold his hand. Racing Drivers are SUPPOSED to be with their matches. It is right.] He walked away.

  
'Ever wonder WHY the mares always have their hands on him and never look at you?' Jackrabbit said. He and Taku stood up and followed Dilly.

  
Xerxes kept still behind the crate where he'd been watching beetles when the other Drivers had come up and sat down, trapping him. He couldn't stand up without being seen, and he couldn't leave without going past them. Since they'd been saying mean things about him even when they came walking up, they would be hostile if they thought he was listening.

  
He relaxed against the wall and closed his eyes. The beetles had scurried away, there was nothing to see. Why did it matter if he heard them saying mean things when they thought they were alone. They said them just as much when they knew he was listening. He pinched his hands between his knees. It stopped them from moving, but he still knew what they were trying to say.

  
Friends, friends, friends, protect, friends, love, brothers.

  
It was so nice of Taku and Jackrabbit and Dilly to stand up for him. They were always very nice to Xerxes, and so were Takuma and Conor and Bryan. Friendly nice. Friendly. Like Freeza and Max and Verdura and Pippa, and Puma and Juan Pablo, and his friends from F1, Guardian and Giedo, Alisar and Esteban, Pauli and Valtteri, Trace and Jules...wait, no, Pauli said Trace and Jules were still their friends, still part of the Grand Tour. Even though the Grand Tour wasn't together anymore.

  
Like when Zuri and Shadow left. They didn't come on the Grand Tour, but they were still part of it.

  
So Trace and Jules were still part of it, even though they couldn't come on it anymore, either.

  
He added Zuri and Dani and Shadow and Qinghua to the list of his friends. And JEV and Jean-Eric, of course. And Tumba and Daniil were friends with Pauli and Valtteri, so he could trust them.

  
Friends were good, friends were important.

  
He listened carefully, the other Drivers had gone away. Maybe they felt bad because his friends told them they were wrong? Anyway, they'd gone and he needed to go back to Alexander.

  
He stood up from behind the crate, brushed himself off and went off towards the motorhome.

  
Dilly and Taku and Jackrabbit were standing around the corner, waiting for him. [Hey brother,] Jackrabbit put his arm around Xerxes. [Sorry you had to hear them say those things.]

  
[Racing Drivers are supposed to support each other. We support you.] Taku told him.

  
[Because we like you, not because we have to.] Dilly added.

  
The four of them walked together.


	11. Smuggler Desert Diamond West Valley Phoenix Grand Prix- 2016

**Smuggler**   
**Desert Diamond West Valley Phoenix Grand Prix- 2016**

  
Xerxes stood around outside the garage until Max looked up. He jutted his chin at the blonde human, who looked at him, confused, and then with an unfocused expression as he consulted with Freeza. He tapped one of his mechanics and pointed to Xerxes. He came over, making loud, friendly human noises. He reached out his hand to shake.

  
Shaking hands with a human was bad enough before, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, now, so he moved in close and patted Max on the shoulder. Max waved him into the back room of the garage. They went in and Freeza stood up. She came over and hugged Xerxes.

  
'Hey, how are you doing?' She petted the side of his face.

  
She insisted on honesty and he shrugged.

  
'Do you want to show me?'

  
He stepped back and nodded.

  
Max slipped back out to the garage to keep working.

  
Xerxes pulled his gloves off. Freeza picked up his hands. She ran her fingers over the knotted, disjointed knuckles. Two of his fingers went the wrong direction on each hand. She flexed his fingers one by one. The skewed ones didn't bend in a straight line, either.

  
'Does it hurt?'

  
'Not until I get tired.' He reached out and stroked her face. 'I brought you something.' He unzipped his jumpsuit and pulled it down to below his shorts. 'I never felt like I could apologize to you enough for the time you had the babies and I...' He frowned, 'Touched them without asking.'

  
She watched impassively as he pulled his jumpsuit down to his knees and then pulled his light blue boxers up his pale, muscular thigh. There was a tattoo on the entire side of his leg. It was a full color picture of a grey feather and some sort of red, bushy plant. 'You got a tattoo?'

  
'I made Alexander take me to the stable where Lentaa lives so his man could show him how to make it. While I was there, I met some new friends and these are their names. Softness of Silver and Scarlet Ivy. Ivy is one of the fastest growing plants, you know. It takes over everything.'

  
'You got Racing Driver names tattooed on your leg...for me? How...sweet...'

  
He reached out and drew her face to his, cheek to cheek. 'Just watch, Stallion.'

  
There was a burst of pain as he remembered the pain of the tattoo on his leg.

  
_Then he was sitting on a bench in a dim, fluorescent lit hallway; a little box full of juice in one hand and a cookie in the other, with plastic sheeting over the new marking. A tall blonde Mare came out of a room across the way, carrying two...Little Racing Drivers. Xerxes set the box and cookie on the bench beside him and reached his arms out._

  
_Madeleine, the lead Trainer of the nursery stable shifted one of the Little Racing Drivers higher on her hip and Xerxes stood and put his arms around the other. They sat down on the bench side by side. The Little Racing Driver was by far the smallest Freeza had ever seen. It was only about 2 feet tall._

  
_It had big brown eyes and brown hair and a sharp bone structure, under the chubbiness. Xerxes touched it's mind. 'Hello, again, Softness of Silver.' There was a tiny flash of memory of sending to the baby through a locked door a few days earlier._

  
_The baby's answer was a sort of impression of contentment with a full belly._

  
_Xerxes cuddled the baby against his chest. He tickled the baby and it laughed with a little mechanical buzz. He sent the baby feelings of love. Tucking the baby up with one arm, he reached out with the other as Madeleine handed him the other baby, who looked very much the same._

  
_'Hello Scarlet Ivy,' he told the baby, sending adoration to it as well. This baby was a little more alert and it kicked it's feet. He nuzzled it with his nose. 'You will be a fast shifter one day,' he told Scarlet Ivy, 'like your sire.' He sent the babies both pictures of their parents and the love and respect he felt for both of them. He held them close to his heart and told them their dam would always, always be proud of them, and whenever they felt love, to remember she put love into their hearts. He cuddled them for a long time, memorising their eyes- Max's eyes and their smiles- Jules' smile, and as much of who they were as he could absorb in such a short time._

  
Freeza and Xerxes took deep breaths as they came out of his memories of holding Freeza's babies, with eyes so like the eyes she shared with Max, and grins that took in the whole world around them, like Trace and Jules had smiled when they were alive.

  
'Trace couldn't bring these to you, but you need them,' he told her, unable to meet her eyes, turned his chin again and again, warding off the strain that giving away the memories had put him under.

  
She brushed her fingers across her babies' names, scarred and inked onto his leg. 'Snap does this for Prince, when the men take her babies away from her, doesn't he? That's why he has so many.'

  
Xerxes nodded.

  
'You brought me Trace's babies. I remember what it feels like to hold them,' she looked into his eyes with a tear streaked face.

  
'I owed you.'

  
'Oh Xerxes, you soft heart,' she laughed fondly, 'You didn't owe me. I forgave you immediately once you told me you wouldn't touch my belly again. You didn't have to feel this pain for me.'

  
She looked at him seriously.

  
'I am glad you did, though. Now I owe you for what you've done for me.'

  
'No. You can't owe me, because even this isn't enough to repay what I owe. Trace would have made sure you had these. Trace would have...' He scrunched his face and put his chin on his chest, '...and I can never repay what I owe him!'

  
Freeza stroked his face. 'What could you have possibly owed Trace that he wouldn't instantly forgive?'

  
Instead of opening, his face scrunched tighter. 'He was my friend!!' He wailed in agony. 'He told me to come to him any time, and he meant it. He would always help me! I could never do enough for him to thank him for that.'

  
She gathered the keening Black Driver into her arms. His twitching was worse, now, and she stroked his back as Trace always had. 'He was a very good friend,' She agreed. 'We just all have to take care of each other now, because Trace isn't here to do it for us.'

  
He nodded his face against her, and held his arms protectively around her as well as she opened her heart and they shared their pain together. And their love for the friend who'd given them both so much.

  
'I am here for you, anytime.'


	12. Plan Night of the Grand Tour Broadcast- November 18, 2016

**Plan**   
**Night of the Grand Tour Broadcast- November 18, 2016**

  
The dishwater was warm on his hands, but the lights were out. There wasn't enough light coming through the kitchen window from the stormy sky to make anything visible, even though the moon was nearly full. He set his wet hands on the side of the sink and went though the plan in his mind. He reached out and pulled the dish towel off its rack, dried his hands and put it back. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight feature. It lit the kitchen in a blue glow. He went and got the big tactical flashlight from the cupboard. It lit up the kitchen like daylight.

  
He put his boots on and pulled on his coat and hat. More from a disinclination to get wet than worry about the cold. People had been known to get lost in blizzards, but those people didn't usually thousand lumen flashlights to light up the night. And why didn't they just follow their own footprints back to the house? He put on a hat and went out around the corner of the house to the lean-to shed and primed the generator.

  
He may not be heading to the stable first thing on the morning, after all. He would have to do some shovelling and snow blowing around here, first, to get the place ready for when Emilia came back on Monday. It was no good making her do all the shovelling. There would probably be more snow before then, but she could deal with that. He would do his part.

  
He started the generator up and plugged in the extension cord, unrolling it as he went back to the house. He plugged the refrigerator and the big freezer in to keep them running through the night. He couldn't leave the generator running when he left, that might be a problem. He didn't want Emilia to come home to a fridge and freezer full of spoiled food. When he left, the house would probably cool to a temperature that would keep food cool all on it's own, or the power might have come back on. He doubted it. This was the first big storm of the winter and the house was pretty far out on it's own. There would be higher priorities, but he would see in the morning.

  
He went and got a double armful of wood from the woodblocks and stacked it next to the fireplace. He went out of the house towards the woodshed to get more wood for the firebox. Emilia shouldn't have to carry a lot of wood in when she got home. He would refill it again before he left.

  
He turned back to the house with the split wood. Two men in black body armor loomed out of the storm. They both had assault rifles. "Don't move. We're not here to hurt you, we're here to escort you to a safe location."

  
Not here to hurt him, but willing to hurt him, or they wouldn't have guns. He thought about how quickly he could disarm them if he was just holding the flashlight. He had his arms full of wood, though. He could fling it at them, but they would certainly react by shooting him. Not worth it.

  
"Alright," he said.

  
"Go in the house. You need to pack a bag. Expect to be gone awhile."

  
The man spoke Finnish with a British accent. Valtteri led himself be herded into the house. These guys were ex-army, but not Finns. Mercenaries or private security for the FIA? There was only one group Valtteri was associated with that had it's own private security. So this had something to do with Pauli. He didn't smile the secretive little smile that came into his heart when he thought of the Racing Driver. He packed everything he would need for two weeks away. It fitted neatly in his travel duffel and he didn't even have to bring a garment bag for his formal event clothing. The mercenaries watched him, guns no longer trained on him, but watchful. He'd done his time in the military, and gotten more out of it than a lot of young men.

  
He heard one of them turn off the gas generator. He should have left a fire laid for Emilia's return, but these guys meant business, so he didn't comment. They had him put on snow gear, and the two men he'd seen and 2 more he hadn't all got on snowmobiles a short hike out of earshot from the house, and rode down to a part of the road. They loaded him and his duffle bag into an SUV and as he watched, loaded the snowmobiles onto a trailer.

  
"Mr. Bottas," said the team leader. "We're with the Grand Tour." Valtteri relaxed, so this was the day of Clarkson's plan. This wasn't FIA, it was to protect him from FIA. "We're here to take you to a safe location. We will extract your partner and the others from the Williams facility. We'll be there in around 14 hours."

  
14 hours later they had arrived at the Williams stable. The same trip Valtteri would have made the morning after the lights went out, but by a very different route. The sun was just rising.

  
The team left him in the van they'd transferred to, after the boat, outside the property and headed for the building.

  
He waited a long time before warning lights went off on the corners of the building, and the fire sirens screamed. He couldn't see much but the upper part of the building from where the van was parked. The radio in the front of the van transmitted. "Blue 4 to blue 1, the delivery is incomplete. Wrapped packages have arrived, unwrapped packages have not. Copy." That was the guy who had escorted Valtteri.

  
"Blue 1 to blue 4, I copy. Pick up the packages. I am picking up the wrapped packages now."

  
He struggled to see anything. He could guess that wrapped packages meant team drivers and unwrapped packages was the rest of the stable. That meant Felipe and Mancha, Lance and Magnum. Alain and Professor, too, probably. If the fire alarm had gone off, whichever handler got one out would have gotten the whole team wing out. Whichever Drivers were onsite.

  
"Blue 1 this is blue 4. We're taking fire. Blue 3 is down."

  
"Copy, can you handle it?"

  
"Yessir."

  
He could feel Pauli, suddenly, coming towards him. There was movement in the brush between the van and the building. A white helmeted Driver became visible, helped along by a Yellow. They were followed by Alain and Damon. Behind them came a Grey suited Driver and Keke, then bringing up the rear, little Red Mancha and Felipe. Mancha was towing Pauli along behind him. Then came the team leader. No Lance, No Magnum. The team leader opened the van doors and waved everyone in. They all greeted Val and Pauli hugged him hard. His orange race suit was wet from the walk in the rain. The team leader stood guard outside.

  
The Racing Drivers and their men were all sitting along the sides of the van on the bench seats. Pauli was chattering to Val about what everyone said would happen once the Racing Drivers were free. A lot of it seemed unrealistic, but Pauli would have no way of knowing that. Val let the chatter wash over him. He hadn't slept well on the boat and he was getting a sick feeling. He realized Pauli wasn't talking as much. He sat up. Pauli looked distinctly uncomfortable. Worse than was leaking over to Val through their connection.

  
[Are you alright?]

  
[What is wrong?] Alain gestured to Pauli. Professor was looking like he was feeling the same discomfort, so did Felipe, Damon, and Keke's Drivers.

  
Professor took a sucking breath, like he was choking. [Get them out! Alain, get the herd out of the stable!] He pushed his match towards the door of the van.

  
Keke's Driver gasped and Damon's followed suit, clawing at Damon's shirt and gesturing. [Go help Alain.]

  
Pauli was completely focused inwards. He made a questioning rev.

  
The door opened again and one of the strike team hauled another into the back of the van. The smell of blood filled the small space. There was a bullet wound in the man's leg. The teammate who'd brought him in started pulling first aid supplies out of his gear.

  
"What's going on? There's something really wrong with the Drivers at the stable." Alain told the man.

  
[Get them outside!] Professor gestured again.

  
[We have to bring them here.] Keke's added. [Now.]

  
Alain was kneeling next to the wounded man with Damon beside him. They worked seamlessly together, checking to make sure the bullet had gone through and applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

  
"Blue 4 to blue 1. We need backup. There were more of them than we thought!" Screamed the radio.

  
The team leader glanced at the man currently pressing his hands firmly to the wound while Alain and Damon worked out the disinfectant and Damon threaded a suture needle. "I'm going to back them up. Guard the van. Keep him alive."

  
He took off through the brush.

  
Professor reached down and shook Alain's shoulder.

  
Alain stopped and gestured, angry at the further interruption. [Those men are GETTING them out.]

  
[Can't breathe.] Professor gestured, more calmly that would be expected. All the Racing Drivers were gasping for breath, now. It wasn't panic. It wasn't hyperventilating. It was sympathy.

  
Understanding washed over all the matches at the same time.

  
They tripped over each other trying to get to the radio. Felipe squeezed through the narrow space between the seats and clicked the handset. "No air!" he screamed into it. "They're killing them! Poisoning the air!"

  
"Get out, Blue team, get out! It's gas."

  
"Get them out!" Felipe screamed into the handset. He was gesturing so much the handset was barely by his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Val saw Mancha mirroring his motions. Damon's Driver dived for the door to the van, followed less than a second later by Keke's Driver. Their men behind them.

  
Pauli barrelled out behind them and Mancha hesitated just a moment before tearing Felipe away from the radio and following. Val caught a fleeting glimpse of Professor's white face and his hand clutching Alain's arm as he shoved past the strike soldier and ran through the brush.

  
The champions were more strongly connected to the herd in the depths of the building. They had reacted to the inability to breathe first, and their instincts had moved them to go to their family first. Damon and Keke's racing had ended years before, though, and their brutal fitness regime with it. Felipe and Mancha, still at racing trim and in peak condition, were far out in the lead, now. Valtteri passed the older men and Drivers easily. He was a ways behind Pauli, and they were catching up to Felipe and Mancha whose strides were shorter.

  
Valtteri felt the sick feeling deepen. He heard Professor scream. Racing Drivers sounded human when they screamed, but no creature should make a noise like that. Behind him, Damon's Driver cried out in agony, and his man with him. A heartbeat later, Mancha followed, taking a stumbling step before recovering. Keke's Driver was next, and Val heard Nico's father swear in Finnish. Then terror and burning pain poured through his bond as well. Not choking- suffocating. Drowning. His throat felt wet and full. His Driver did stumble. 'MIKA!' Val screamed his true name to him, for a moment fearing, somehow, his partner was dying along with the Drivers still trapped in the underground stable.

  
'Go!' Mika waved him forward. He was already picking himself up off the ground and running again.

  
"Felipe!"

  
The man was onto the paved area around the building, now. Val had almost reached him.

  
"Felipe STOP!"

  
No reaction. Mancha was faster, he was ahead of Felipe, almost to the doors.

  
"Felipe STOP him, he'll die TOO!"

  
Mancha screamed, coming to a stop a dozen strides from the door. He struggled with his own body, with Felipe's iron control over him. He turned, feet planted as if they were glued, all he could move was his upper body, and screamed at Felipe, who jogged to a halt beside him. Felipe's hands were out, he was out of arm's reach. Mancha, lower half unmoving, was clawing at him and shrieking. Behind them, only partway across the grounds, Keke and Damon were wrapped around their Drivers. Damon obviously having a similar struggle to Felipe's

  
'What are you doing!? Go get them!' Mika sent into Val's head. He'd caught up and he was shaking Val's arm. He was desperate, but the urgency was dimmed.

  
"Pauli, no. The gas will kill us, too." He forgot to gesture this, but Mika pulled it out of his head as Val turned away. He stared at the building. The fire alarms had shut off at some point.

  
'Blueline,' Mika sent quietly. 'We have to go get her.' Valtteri cringed. 'Our foals. She has...she can't get them out without someone to unlock the door.'

  
This was fucking unbearable. Val drew his composure together. 'Can you still hear her?' She was tall and blonde, Val had seen her in person a few times, and in Mika's memories a hundred more. She didn't look like Emilia, but she had the same kind of deep rooted strength.

  
'No, so we need to hurry.' Mika's voice was so quiet, Val could barely hear it.

  
"Pauli," he began, and then started again. [Pauli, the air is bad. Poison. Makes you sick. Burns you. You go in, you die before you get to the stairs.]

  
[Professor could go. He's strong.]

  
[Stronger than a crash?]

  
[No,] Mika whispered.

  
Val put an arm around his shoulder. He was feeling numb. He knew, intellectually that Felipe was there, having fought Mancha into a hug, forcefully holding his arms to his sides while the Racing Driver raged against the irretrievable. He could hear Damon and his sobbing, and Keke and his just holding each other, silent on the outside.

  
He could hear the mercenary who'd brought the wounded man walking up to him. "We've got to get out of here," he told Valtteri.

  
"The gas will dissipate enough for us to open the door and turn the ventilation fans on, soon. Then we can do a thorough search for survivors," Val said, not turning from the building to look at him.

  
"No. We don't have time. Someone will be responding to the fire alarm. We're not so far out that no one will have noticed. They can take care of...anything else."

  
"Our family is in there. Pauli's mate is in there. Their foals are in there. We'll wait to see if they are alright," he said. He rubbed his hand over Pauli's shoulder and sent a feeling of reassurance.

  
"Prost's Driver said there isn't any minds inside anymore."

  
He knew about the sending, then. Interesting. Valtteri kept looking at the building.

  
"We've got to GO or instead of 5 free Drivers, we'll have 10 prisoners of her majesty's police force. I've got to get you out of here."

  
"Your team was in there."

  
"They aren't. There. Any. More."

  
"Valtteri." Alain. "We have to leave. There's no one we can help, here. We need to help the herd that's left."

  
Valtteri looked around at the 5 survivors of the Williams herd. If FIA found them, there would be no one left at all. "Alright. We just have to come up with a new plan."

  
One that involved every FIA official drowning in their own blood. That sounded good. That was a good plan.


	13. The Grand Tour Re-Emerges Central Europe Racing Refugee Arena (Code Name: SARAH)- 2016

**The Grand Tour Re-Emerges**  
Central Europe Racing Refugee Arena (Code Name: SARAH)- 2016  


  
The blonde fillies that Mountain Rose, the lead mare of Ferrari had Elegant Sunrays bring to Pauli, his daughters, to show him he still had family after the disaster at Williams made him feel better. They didn't make Valtteri feel better, though, and they made Pauli think. About promises and blond Ferrari foals.

  
One day Professor contacted him. 'There is someone here to see you, go to the farthest end of the northeast wall.' He walked out to the edge of the large, landscaped grounds. Farther northwest, he could feel, at the very edge of his range, another Racing Driver.

  
'What are you wasting time for, stallion? We've got things to do. Come on out here.' Said a familiar singsong.

  
'Xerxes?!' He tried to look over the fence, even though the other Driver was at the edge of his range and thus out of sight. He allowed his lips to perk on the corners. 'Springing me from the stable again, yes? Is Freeza out there with you?'

  
The connection cut out for a moment, then it was back. 'The lead stallion is not here, but she sent me. Alexander is here.' There was a little pause like he was letting Alexander talk. 'He says hello!'

  
'We can't get out. They have have Valtteri in the medical center. He hurts.'

  
'We heard about your stable,' Xerxes sent quietly. 'We heard he wants to kill company men.' There was a sense of that eerie laughter. 'Tell him a tree covered in glitter is here, now, before he expected it to be.'

  
'Will a tree help?' Pauli asked.

  
'What? No, it's...a human thing. You know when they eat candy out of socks.'

  
'Valtteri did not say anything about WANTING candy from socks?'

  
'No. Nevermind, I didn't bring a tree anyway.'

  
'We have some clean socks. Did you bring candy?'

  
'No, do you have any candy?'

  
'No.'

  
'So are you ready?'

  
'Ready for what?'

  
'To come out?'

  
'We can't. Valtteri is in the medical center.'

  
'Right! I forgot. Professor is going to make the Trainer let you out.'

  
'Oh. Alright.'

  
'Bring all your things.'

  
Pauli and Valtteri had been sharing the things Val had packed the day he was taken from his home in Finland. 'There is not much.'

  
'You won't need much.'

  
'Does Alexander have a car?'

  
'Yes just walk down the road. We are waiting out of reach of the big stallions, except Professor.'

  
'Okay.'

  
Pauli walked back into the stable and put all their things neatly folded into the bag Valtteri had brought. He walked down to the medical center and left it outside the door.

  
Valtteri was living in a small room off the main area of the medical center. He didn't look well. He was sitting on the side of the bed with his head down, swinging his feet.

  
'Valtteri.'

  
He looked up. [Hello, Mika. How was your practice?]

  
[Fine. Get up, we're going outside.]. Pauli looked around the medical center. There was no one here. Valentino and Rasoio must have gone somewhere else. He waved Val to hurry. [Xerxes is here. We are going to be the Grand Tour again. This time we will see more than kitchens. You will come.]

  
Valtteri stared at him. Mouth closed, eyes on him, not much motivation behind them. Slowly, like a fluorescent light igniting, life came into his eyes. He got up and put on pants and changed out of his medical gown into a shirt. When he was bare chested Pauli could see the heavy muscles that allowed him to drive a car as fast as a Racing Driver, and the scar across his side, given to him by the company doctor to look like the one Pauli had on his side.

  
The scar Pauli had gotten from a steel toed boot the night the handlers broke the Grand Tour.

  
They picked up the bag outside the medical center and walked toward the entrance. Beside the stairwell, Valtteri stopped. He looked at a glass encased alcove in the wall. Then he went into one of the nearby rooms and brought out a chair. He picked it up by the back and smashed one of the legs through the glass. He reached inside the alcove and pulled out two orange sticks about half as tall as Pauli, maybe a little more. They had heavy metal pieces on one end.

  
'Yours is called Revenge and mine is called Justice. We'll offer them a choice,' Valtteri told him.

  
'What is it?' Pauli asked, readying the heavy end over his shoulder and holding the other end of the stick, like Val did.

  
'It's a fire ax. They're used to save lives.'


	14. The Grand Tour Reunited Outside the Central Europe Racing Refugee Arena (Code Name: SARAH)- 2016

**The Grand Tour Reunited**   
**Outside the Central Europe Racing Refugee Arena (Code Name: SARAH)- 2016**

  
The large sedan was parked about a mile away. Valtteri's mood seemed to keep climbing after they left the Ferrari stable and walked down the hill. He reached out and took Pauli's hand with the hand he was not using to hold the ax. The sedan was dark blue.

  
It was the first time Pauli had ever seen Xerxes wearing something other than a jumpsuit or plain uniform stable clothes. He looked very respectable. He was wearing black slacks, shoes and a smooth looking shirt, over which he was wearing a big, durable coat with nice large pockets with room for his hand and Alexander's while they held hands.

  
Alexander was wearing similar clothes, but his shirt was white and his coat was dark grey.

  
[Hey guys,] Val gestured.

  
[Why have you got axes?] Alexander disengaged his hand from Xerxes' to gesture, but linked his arm with his Racing Driver's instead.

  
[Justice and Revenge,] Pauli explained.

  
Alexander nodded. [Coool,] he drew out the gesture. [We only got knives. Well, let's get going. Freeza wants us to drop you off and head back to Switzerland as soon as we can.]

  
[Okay.]

  
Xerxes and Alexander got in the front and Pauli and Val got in the back. Justice and Revenge were stowed in the trunk.

  
[Where are you going to drop us off?] Valtteri gestured so Alexander could see him in the rearview mirror.

  
Alexander made some words.

  
Xerxes, shook his head.

  
Alexander made more words.

  
[Freeza is sending us to get Giedo and Guardian. They know where we are supposed to go next. Alexander just knows where he and Xerxes are supposed to go next,] Valtteri translated for Pauli.

  
Alexander nodded and murmured.

  
[He says the Grand Tour is finally going to get their own.]

  
Night fell as they drove. Pauli caught up with Xerxes, and Val looked silently out the window. Alexander listened tensely to the news. The Grand Tour, the broadcast, not the team of ex-rookies, was being talked about a lot. The only time Pauli and Xerxes had seen each other since the end of their Grand Tour was in passing on the track, for mere moments at a distance.

  
Xerxes sent images of his time in Indycar. He seemed to enjoy it. He'd won a BIG race. Different than the F1 races. He talked about the team stable, and going back to Redbull on breaks. He talked about the beautiful, older mare he'd formed a bond with. She was a Racing Mare. They were just friends, but there was something in his face that reminded Pauli of how he had always felt looking at Blueline.

  
He didn't want to think about Blueline. He couldn't help it, though. He turned his face to the window so no one could see the tears and told Xerxes about his beautiful mate. After a while, without looking at him, Valtteri patted the center seat, and Pauli moved over and buckled in there, instead and let himself be gathered to Val's chest while Val kissed the top of his head and wet his hair with tears. Pauli returned the favor by dampening Val's shirt. He tried to choke back the little hitching sobs, and felt Xerxes touch tentatively to his mind.

  
'Look at me, Pauli.'

  
Pauli turned his face from Valtteri's chest and looked at Xerxes.

  
He was turned around in front passenger seat. He flicked the overhead light on. His eyes were shining with tears. With great effort he gestured, [It is alright to cry about what they've done to you.]

  
"Ne saavat vielä maksaa tästä verellään." Valtteri growled, arm tightening around Pauli in unconscious protection. Professor had been right about Xerxes no longer being able to pick locks.

  
Xerxes hands were so ruined, Pauli could barely make out the signs.

  
The whole time Xerxes had kept his hands in his pockets or his lap, and Alexander had done the talking.

  
Alexander talked because Xerxes no longer had a voice.


	15. Predators România- 2016

**Predators**  
**România- 2016**

  
Valtteri was such a good driver. Pauli laid his head against the headrest and just watched him. The easy way his hands rested on the wheel, his alert attention to the road, his smooth shifts and the way he coordinated using the levers on the side of the steering column. He glanced over at Pauli warmly from time to time.

  
Alexander had taken a break from driving to rub intensely chemical scented stuff on Xerxes' hands. During this process, Xerxes had whimpered and sang nonsense songs, just loud enough to be barely audible. He'd been lost in a flock of birds, and it had taken him a few hours to find his way out. The two were sitting in the back seat, now, playing True or False, a game Trace had come up with. It involved Xerxes checking the unusual, sometimes eerily accurate information the birds brought him, against Alexander's senses to see if the two matched.

  
Pauli ignored this. It was uncomfortable to listen to.

  
The GPS made a noise. [We're here,] Valtteri said. He pulled the car over on a stretch of road that looked just like the rest.

  
Pauli got out and grabbed the backpack from the trunk. He slung it over his shoulders, fastening the hip belt to carry the weight. His ax was strapped to the side of it. Valtteri put on a matching pack. The two of them waved at Xerxes and Alexander. Then they walked off into the brush at the side of the road. They weren't watching when the others left, but Pauli heard the car turn and drive back the way they'd come.

  
It was just Valtteri and Pauli, now. Going further away from a road than Pauli had ever been in his life. They had to meet Geido and Guardian by sunset, or they would be walking in the dark. The crash courses in woodsmanship Valtteri had pounded into Pauli's head on the drive, and their new survival equipment would really be put to the test if they had to stay out tonight. As it was, they were going to be eating what they could find.

  
They hiked for hours. Pauli loved it, it was quiet and there were creatures everywhere, and birds like he had never seen. They just stood in the trees and watched the two walk by, they weren't afraid or anything. This wasn't like running laps, or on a treadmill. The ground was uneven, without even a trail. They had to walk over rocks, he had to watch his step, alter his pace every few moments. It was exhausting. It was exhilarating. Before the sun had reached the halfway point in the sky, Valtteri had used his knife and carved a stick he'd cut into a y shape and fitted rubber tubing to it, and created a y shaped stick with a loose loop of rubber tubing. [This will help us catch animals for food,] he explained to Pauli.

  
[Of course it will,] he responded. He just couldn't imagine how.

  
He watched in awe when Val used it to sling a rock hard and fast, and accurately into a tree, much farther away than either of them could have thrown it.

  
[Primitive but effective.] It was no gun, but it was better than trying to catch animals with their hands.

  
[I was worried you would object to killing animals for food, Racing Drivers are usually so passive.]

  
Pauli shrugged uncomfortably, [Being a predator is not the same as hurting your friends and family, the ones you must rely on.] He took the slingshot gently from Valtteri's hand and pulled it to it's limit. [The furry ones are edible?]

  
[Sure, we'll have to find some, first...]

  
Pauli released the stone. It thunked into the brush about 15 yard away. He strode up the hill to the bush he'd shot. He stooped and picked up a foot long hamster. [Lunch.]

  
[Okay. I'll get out the camp stove. Then I'll show you how to gut it.]

  
[We're going to cook him?] Pauli looked at the brown furred rodent. He licked his lips.

  
[Predators. Yes] Valtter gestured. [Come here.]

  
Pauli brought his trophy to his partner. He watched Valtteri gesture, thanking the animal for giving it's life. He liked that. It seemed right. It did not seem like something most humans would do. He expressed his appreciation as well.

  
[We may be predators, but we don't waste, and we don't take what nature gives us for granted,] Valtteri told him.

  
Definitely not something most humans would do.

  
Valtteri showed him how to take the animal's skin off and take it's insides out. He kept looking at Pauli as though he was going to be upset by this.

 

It wasn't upsetting, but he kept having pictures: _elbow deep in insides, so hot they were steaming in the frozen air, a strange feeling to the ground, like it wasn't staying still, and a black and white shining creature longer than Pauli's car and Mancha's car end to end. He looked up into a beautiful face smiling at him, from behind a clear visor, flecked with blood._

  
[Are you going to throw up?] Valtteri stopped cutting up the hamster to gesture. There was blood on his hands.

  
In his imagination, Pauli closed the wounds on the big creature, removed the 6 foot metal shafts from it's body, and showed Valtteri the picture of the creature alive and whole. [What is this?]

  
Valtteri glanced up at him, went back to dividing the meat into the boiling pot of water. [It's an orca,] he gestured the word just like it was one he had a reason to know, like he had ever gestured it before or ever seen it gestured before. He sent a few pictures of similar creatures swimming, in tanks, in the sea.

  
[Are they edible?] Pauli asked.

  
[Yes, they live in oceans, though, not around here. You can't kill one with a slingshot. Grab the folding shovel from my pack, I've got to bury the offal,] another gesture he had no reason to know.

  
_The hunting party could all feel the change in the sea ice when it passed beneath. It breached in the hole they'd cut into the ice. Before it's spout had died away, thrown shafts had bedded themselves in it. It thrashed, shaking the ice where they stood with it's massive body. It strained against the ropes fixed to the vehicles, which were straining their engines in the other direction._

  
No, they couldn't be killed with a slingshot.

  
Valtteri gathered the insides up and went to dispose of them away from the camp. Pauli sat and stared at the boiling water.

  
The memories weren't his memories, they weren't his ancestors' memories, they were stories, passed down through the generations since Racing Drivers had come to live in stables, with men. Stories that had stopped making sense, years before. Stories of things no Tame Racing Driver had ever experienced and never would.

  
Pauli had always liked those stories. They had never been as clear as they were now. Since he'd seen those pictures of the place the Wild Racing Drivers lived. Where he'd been meant to live. Our ancestors hunted monsters that came from under the ground. One animal enough to feed an entire stable for a season. His people were predators.

  
He looked at Valtteri, coming back. Humans were more violent than Racing Drivers. Valtteri had wanted to KILL Kimi because of what had been done at the stable. He wanted to hunt the men who had done that.

  
The hamster had been eating it's lunch and Pauli hadn't thought twice about killing it.

  
The sick feeling his family had felt was sitting behind a wall in his mind where he didn't have to look at it.

  
The hamster hadn't had time to be afraid or hurting.

  
Being a predator wasn't the same as hurting the ones who relied on you.


	16. The DEAL FIA Global Headquarters- 2017

**The DEAL**  
**(Video is from postseason 2014)**  
**FIA Global Headquarters- 2017**

  
The surveillance video was a little grainy, but it had color, and audio. Kimi Raikkonen was standing in Luca's office in the FIA Global Stable. His shoulders were hunched.

  
Luca set down a file on the desk. "Sit down, Kimi. We're going to discuss your contract."

  
Kimi sat down.

  
"You know Bianchi's Driver died in the Suzuka crash."

  
Kimi nodded, head still down.

  
"You know we were coming to the end of our probationary period for Michael's disrespectful behavior. Now FIA has seen fit to grant us another probationary period for Jule's little display of rebelliousness. If this winless streak doesn't come to an end, soon, there will be no stable left at the end of this one. At least Williams had Ayrton's reins when he went, or we'd still be paying for HIM." di Montezemolo shook his head. "This leaves us in a bad position, Kimi. I've read your report about Grad, and he is coming to the end of his projected life expectancy. Niki's reports concur with your assessment." He folded his hands. "Our stable needs it's leadership to remain in tact. Your recommendation that we buy Vettel from Redbull is an extremely costly prospect."

  
Kimi's hand brushed over his chin.

  
"It's been shown that the Driver isn't what one hopes for in regards to stable leadership. He and Webber's practically pulled Redbull apart. If you hadn't stepped in to remove them both from the situation, it might have gotten very costly for everyone. We can't have him disrupting Ferrari like that."

  
Kimi shrugged. "Webber's is a unique problem. It gets along with others, well enough."

  
"Still, with Bianchi's gone, and Chilton's is barred from F1, we've lost an entire generation of champions in one moment. It will be years before we have another champion lined up, and years more before he's old enough the resident population will accept him. Three years minimum until we can even get Giovinazzi's on the track. With this probation, who knows if he'll ever have a championship. So, we're going to discuss your contract."

  
Kimi made an unimpressed face. "It's up at the end of 2015. I've already said I'll retire."

  
Luca stayed very still and waited awhile.

  
"We're going to have you stay on the team for awhile longer."

  
"I'm getting old, Luca. He's getting old. He'll be 40 by the time Giovinazzi is ready."

  
"He'll be fine, the probation won't be allowing any of them to win, anyway, and the contract extension is temporary, until your new position is available."

  
Kimi scratched his forehead.

  
"Now, since Grad will be...no longer active, we're going to need Iceman to put in more time in the stable. You'll still be able to take him for races, and consults, but he'll need to be stabled with the rest of the herd. Once Grad is no longer available, you will have the opportunity to retire from racing to a management position. THE management position. The Training Grounds will need a new head Trainer. You will accept the position when we offer it to you, but you will need to upgrade your Trainer's license before then. Of course we believed we had this all arranged, but Michael declined our generosity. I trust you will make a wiser decision."

  
"Of course. Of course I will be happy to stay on and manage the Ferrari stable for you."

  
"Good. When you are no longer required to stable your charges at your home, it will be easier for you to live nearby, for easy access. I believe the HR department can make some recommendations about appropriate housing in the area. Since you won't need to have the privacy to keep any Racing Drivers hidden, you can get a place that will be more conveniently located."

  
Kimi shrugged, just a little.

  
"Someplace near shopping. Someplace near public schools." Even Luca didn't seem comfortable with this statement.

  
Kimi stiffened, then took a slow breath that barely made his shoulders rise. "I'm sure we'll be able to find some very good schools near the stable."

  
"Now, I know you might be concerned that you being the manager of the stable's resources may have a detrimental effect on your teammate. Don't worry, we won't be penalising him or you for any friendship between you, he'll have a good, long career at Ferrari. We look out for our friends. Ferrari is more like a family."

  
"I'm glad Sebastian will be in good hands while I am managing the stable."

  
Luca did a little double take. It was so fast it looked like a skip in the video. "Yes, of course. We'll take good care of him."

  
"Of course."

  
"So, we'll send your updated contract to your lawyers, for their approval and your signature, and Kimi, I'm very proud that we could make this deal. I don't think either you, or Ferrari will regret it. Do you?" Luca stood and offered Kimi his hand.

  
"No, no one will regret this decision. I will do my best for the stable." Kimi shook di Montezemolo's hand.

  
With a scratch of static, the video ended.

  
Giedo downloaded the file onto the second backup drive as well and shook his head. If it had been him, di Montezemolo would have been a greasy smear on the carpet. You had to be a real coward to bend over for someone like that. He turned around. Guardian was looking at him. He had translated what was in the video for his Racing Driver, despite wanting to wash his hands, especially when the man made the crack about schools, and then again when he told Kimi that Seb would never be free. Everyone knew how protective Kimi was of Seb. Going after Seb was only a little less sick than going after his kid.

  
'The company hates Kimi so much,' Guardian said, sadly, 'He stands in front of us and still never breaks their rules.'

  
'What are you talking about, they just promoted him to run Ferrari.'

  
'They take his freedom. They lock him in the stable. They can watch him, there, always. They will make him break their rules or they will make him break his. They want him to hurt us. They want him to break.' Guardian picked up the bag of backup hard drives the files were loaded onto and walked out of the archive room.

  
'So why doesn't he stand up to them, if they're hurting him so badly?' Giedo took the other gym bag and followed his Driver.

  
'You saw the Ferrari man. You heard Kimi making trades.'

  
'Trades? He just gave the guy everything he wanted. He just agreed to run their stable.'

  
'The man says they don't have to buy Sunshine. Everyone knows Sunshine cannot go back to Redbull. He says they can make Jaamies race. Racing becomes more dangerous for older Drivers. They have slower reactions. They don't heal as well. The man tells him Ferrari wanted Michael to lead. He tells Kimi he cannot have Jaamies with him. Jaamies must stay at the stable. He tells Kimi his foal will be where Ferrari can get to it. He tells Kimi they will keep Sunshine. These things. Kimi trades for all of this. It is a big trade. They didn't offer you as much.'

  
'Me? I've never traded with FIA.'

  
Guardian walked in silence for a moment.

  
Geido felt a soft touch in his mind, and a memory started playing, as if it, too was a video on a screen.

  
_He was standing in front of a mourning crowd of matches. Like a slave on a leash._

  
_"Mr van der Garde, as a reward for his dogged determination in pursuing his seat with Sauber, despite all..." Toto made an ugly face, "Unfortunate deterrents, was allowed to visit Jules, before the end." He patted Giedo on the back so hard the taller man took a step forward. "We would like him to tell you what Jules' had learned, and how SORRY he was that he had been so thoughtless and selfish."_

  
_Geido's head snapped up. 'NO. Seeing was bad enough, but I can't tell everyone, make them live it.' He couldn't hide the tears on his cheeks from the room full of matches. He stared at Toto and shook his head._

  
_"Go ahead, Giedo. Tell them how he was when you saw him. After 5 months in our care."_

  
_He put his head back down and shook it._

  
_"Come on, now. Do as you're told. We don't need anymore selfishness, do we?"_

  
_'If I don't, I know what they'll do. Who they will take. He depends on me. I can't let them hurt him.'_

  
_"I saw Jules..."_

  
_Afterwards, Toto patted him on the back again. "That was very good, Giedo. I'm sure, despite the loss of your seat at Sauber, your racing career will continue to progress. In fact, after you take a year to recover, I think you will find Endurance Racing to be a more suitable avenue. G-Drive Racing will be contacting you in the morning."_

  
_'Thank god they are going to leave Guardian alone. If they let us keep racing that's just a bonus. Guardian is safe.'_

  
The memory dropped him back into the present with an almost physical clunk. So, he had traded with FIA. In some way, everyone in that room had made a similar trade that day. 3 dozen men had listened to him describe the torture and murder of one of their fellows, and traded away their integrity for the chance to keep their partners alive. Some of the older ones must have been through that over and over. How difficult could it be, by this time? To add another body to the pile? Then he thought about Jules. No. That choice would never be easy. Even if he'd hated the man with every fiber of his being, that choice would never be easy.

  
With a shock he realised that if things hadn't ended when they did, he WOULD have faced that decision again. Someday, it would have happened again, and he would have faced that crossroads again. Over and over until his career ended.

  
'Guardian?' Their communication remained silent, because the surveillance cameras WERE still running. 'Where does a stable keep the petrol?'

  
If the FIA Global Training Facility had been an underwater dome at the bottom of the harbor, it would have been less disappointing, but Guardian did manage to talk Giedo out of burning the whole place down. They just scrawled the word Murderers on the front door and set fire to an abandoned car on the promenade.


	17. Xerxes Fights Fire with Fire Karl Benz Denkmal Klinik "Karl Benz Memorial Clinic" (FIA unlisted holding facility)- 2017

**Xerxes Fights Fire with Fire**   
**Karl Benz Denkmal Klinik "Karl Benz Memorial Clinic" (FIA unlisted holding facility)- 2017**

  
There were big windows, that was the thing that made Alexander's skin crawl.

  
The building was listed on the map as a private medical care center. It was a brick building with a small, grassy grounds, surrounded by a high wall. They'd pulled up to the back door in the delivery truck and walked into the kitchen. It had been easy to tie up the kitchen staff and take the elevator up to the offices to get the administrative staff. They were tied up and locked in an office. Alexander and Xerxes watched the security footage. It didn't show any of the patient rooms. Cells, he reminded himself, they were cells, despite the broad, well lit hallways and the big windows that looked out on the landscaping.

  
'We should get the stories, first,' Xerxes told Alexander, looking in one of the filing cabinets. 'Will they be paper?'

  
'There are all those rooms...we need to go see...who is in them?' Alexander was trying to estimate how many doors there were on the footage he was seeing.

  
'They have waited this long. They will wait until we have what we need. If they disrupt us, we will be in a hurry. The stories won't disrupt us.' Xerxes said, sensibly. When he was sensible, he was very sensible.

  
'They won't be paper, they will be on the machines. Let's go to the room with the big machines.' The layout they had suggested very strongly the location of the server room. They walked out of the office and down a sunny hallway that looked out on some trees and hedges. In the server room, he plugged in the laptop he'd been given. It automatically started running a program that would read the files and look for any gaps that might indicate information that was stored outside the main servers.

  
The companies were arrogant, though. They had everything on the main network, confident that no one would ever look for this place, and that their edifice of corruption would never be breached. The laptop prompted Alexander to connect the wifi hotspot, and started uploading the files to Alexander's Grand Tour Crew account online. Whoever the Grand Tour had to write this software, so Alexander, who was not a hacker or even a particular computer expert, could get this done, was a genius. In a pinch, Xerxes could have done it. In the meantime, he stood at the door and kept a lookout. He kept making a confused face and shaking his head, like he was seeing something that couldn't be real.

  
Then they were done, and they took a leisurely walk up to the highest level corridor. There was a few small rooms, here, empty and unused. After they'd gone through all the rooms and there was only the one at the end left to explore, Alexander was convinced this place was empty. They opened the last door with a keycard from the head doctor.

  
Well, there had been too many kitchen staff to feed just the administrators, after all.

  
It was a ward.

  
Xerxes rubbed a gloved hand over his face. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look pleased, but he didn't look surprised.

  
What could FIA do that would surprise him?

  
'None of them can communicate,' He told Alexander.

  
In fact, none of them had even noticed them come in.

  
There were white beds lining the walls. No personal effects, no noise, and barely any motion.

  
'What is wrong with them?' Alexander asked.

  
Then one of the 20 or so Racing Drivers happened to glance over. His eyes widened, his face was drawn and tired. He stood up off his bed and walked over, hands out, reaching towards Xerxes, making grasping motions.

  
Xerxes intercepted his hands, wrapping his arms around the stallion and putting his cheek on his head. "He has no mind that I can feel.' He reported. 'They are like humans. Alive, but I cannot touch them. Nothing to touch. No open wound, like they've been taken apart.' They just didn't exist on a mental wavelength, as far as Xerxes could tell.

  
He knew what had happened.

  
There was nothing he could do to change it.

  
Others could, though.

  
Alexander stood back and watched him walk through the ward, catching the attention of the Racing Drivers sitting and lying on their beds in their pajama clothing, or standing looking at walls and floors.

  
This was the place the windows were the worst.

  
Racing Drivers grew up in stables and never saw the sun without being walled in, or on a track. There were no windows in most stables, and if there were, they were so high in the walls only the sky was visible. Even then, looking out of them was a privilege to fight for.

  
Here, everyone was locked inside themselves, and the windows were meaningless. An insult.

  
Why do they love hurting them so much? He wondered.

  
He gathered them up. The two walked around behind them, trying to herd them, but they kept stopping or stepping out of the way. It took them minutes to get them to the end of the room with the door.

  
'They move pretty easily when there is something moving them. If we can keep two of them moving and keep them in contact with each other, they should all keep together,' Alexander suggested.

  
They went from one to another and made them hold hands. They couldn't communicate, even by gestures, so they had to over and over clasp their hands to one another to form them into a chain that he and Xerxes could move. They kept letting go, not understanding their intention or meaning. He could feel his Racing Driver's rising frustration.

  
'This isn't working!' He cried, pressing the palms of his hands to his welling eyes. This place was getting to both of them. Seeing the Racing Drivers this way was getting to both of them. They had to hurry, Xerxes had been doing well to hold it together this long, but there would be a flock of birds, soon, if he kept being stressed this way. Alexander didn't know if he couldn't handle this AND a flock of birds.

  
'I have an idea.' Alexander took out his knife and went to one of the beds. He cut a couple long strips off the edge of a sheet. 'We'll tie them one to another.'

  
'You're NOT tying my Racers.' Xerxes growled, very slowly.

  
Alexander thought for a moment, as he cut the strips into smaller lengths. Then he nodded to himself. He went to the nearest stallion and took his sleeve, slicing a small hole just above the cuff. Then he did the same to the next stallion. He threaded a strip through the hole in one sleeve, then one of the ends through the hole in the other sleeve and tied the ends together, so they attached the sleeve, but the Racers were not tied. 'Is this acceptable?'

  
A wide grin spread across Xerxes' face. He nodded. They tied the stallions sleeves so there were two lines of stallions, and Xerxes and Alexander each took hold of the hand of the stallions on the ends of the lines and so they moved out of the ward.

  
It was an anxious time separating to get into the elevator. Against safety regulations, they crammed the elevator full of stallions to ride down to the next level. Alexander was worried what might happen if they collected more Racers on the next floor.

  
What they found on the next floor was worse.

  
They opened the first door. It was a private room, like the ones upstairs that had been empty. A bed and a small bedside table. There were flowers. There was a television. It was showing an old television show. There was someone restrained on the bed. Bound wrist and ankle. He looked up at them when they came in, and his eyes flicked over them.

  
Xerxes made a little squealing noise.

  
"Alex?" A weak voice asked.

  
He'd been beaten. Recently and not so recently, and long ago.

  
A hoarse laugh broke past his lips. "Fuck, I was worried no one would ever come to change the channel. I hate Bonanza." He bit his lip and his eyes scrunched up. Tears ran down his face.

  
They stood frozen in horror in the doorway. Was he insane?

  
"I never told them. Never told them anything." Bryan Clauson opened his eyes and turned back to look at them. "I knew someone would come. I knew the Grand Tour would save me. Dilly always told me I could trust you guys. He told me you'd come. Please. Please let me out."

  
They rushed forward and started pulling the straps off his wrists and ankles. He was sobbing in relief. He collapsed against Alexander's chest. "They killed him in front of me, Alex. He survived that crash, and they told me he wouldn't make it. They killed him in front of me. Let me watch him cry, but wouldn't let me touch him. He died alone." Xerxes' friend Dilly had been matched to this man. Dilly had died in a sprint car race last fall. Everyone assumed Bryan had been sent away to live with a new identity. The retirement promised to all matches whose Racing Drivers died in public.

  
They wrapped themselves around him. At one point, Alexander looked up and saw the corridor full of blank faced Racers. They couldn't see that Bryan was mourning for his Racing Driver. They were unable to understand what was going on at all.

  
"We've got to go." Alexander told him, when he came to a low ebb of his crying jag. "We've got to see who is in these other rooms."

  
"Other rooms?"

  
They tried to get him up, but he was too weak to walk. They figured out how to un-brake the wheels on his hospital bed and he sat up with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed, while they rolled him into the hallway. He looked up at the Racers, and they looked down at him, but he didn't say anything.

  
Xerxes was shaking in rage. He'd misjudged. The companies could surprise him.

  
Why had be believed they wouldn't violate the one hope Racing Drivers held closest to their hearts? Why had be believed they wouldn't piss on the one thing Racing Drivers asked, in exchange for their servitude?

  
'Our men are supposed to be free. We give our lives to the companies, and they are meant to let our men go. They promise us they will let the matches go free, to live their own lives. This is so wrong.' There wasn't a strong enough denunciation. 'Wrong.'

  
They opened the next door. Neither of them knew the man who looked up and cried when they freed him. He told them his name was Sebastien, and his Racing Driver had died racing touring cars. They couldn't take his bed, and lead the Racers, so they helped him onto Bryan's bed and the two of them sat close to each other, arms around each other's shoulders.

  
The man in the next room was obviously the worse for wear. Despite the restraints, he was twisted awkwardly onto his side, eyes away from the television, still blaring Bonanza. He sighed when the door opened, but didn't look at them. Something about the shoulders made him seem familiar, and when Alexander and Xerxes went around the side of his bed, he just closed his eyes.

  
"Don't look at me, just do it," He said, in a quiet, unsteady voice.

  
"Justin?" Alex asked. "We're here to help you. We're taking you home."

  
"There is no home, Rossi. Did you SEE Stopwatch? I didn't have to feel him die to know," He still had his eyes closed. He sounded absolutely steady and lucid, now. "There's a syringe on the table. They leave it in here where I can see it, but can't ever reach it. Just shoot me with it and go away."

  
On the table he had his back to, there was, indeed a syringe.

  
Xerxes snorted in disgust. 'Tell the man he is an idiot. The company wouldn't waste medicine to torment him. They make his own mind do it.' He picked up the syringe, squirted some onto the table and smelled it. 'This is water. No Racer would fall for a trick this simple. That is why WE are all gagged and kept in a single place driving each other mad with the inability to communicate, and the humans are imprisoned by their own assumptions.'

  
"The syringe is full of water, Justin. I can't do anything for you with it."

  
Justin rose up on his shoulders and turned, eyes blazing like a bull. "You just think you can save me. Give it to me! Just shoot me with it!" He was snarling this at Xerxes, who was looking down at him impassively.

  
Making firm eye contact with Justin, Xerxes pushed his shirt sleeve up. He pushed the tip of the needle into the vein at the inside of his elbow and depressed the plunger, injecting himself with the rest of the clear liquid.

  
Justin went wild. "NO!" He thrashed against the restraints. "DON'T!" He reached for Xerxes. "YOU CAN'T!"

  
He flung his head back and forth like a Racer being matched, fighting having their helmet removed.

  
"MINE! THAT'S MINE! IT'S MINE! YOU CAN'T HAVE IT! MINE!"

  
Xerxes looked at Alexander's apprehensive expression and shrugged. Nothing was happening. If Xerxes said it was just water, Alexander trusted his assessment absolutely.

  
"YOU SELFISH SON OF A BITCH!" Justin wailed. "I want to go BE with him! He is me. I can't be here without him anymore." He broke into sobbing.

  
"Justin Wilson!" Alexander barked. "YOUR selfishness has gone on too long. We don't care if you go to Stopwatch or not, but you CAN'T go now. You're slowing us down, and if you don't man up and get on the bed, we're going to LEAVE you here and you will never get to die, ever. So shut the fuck up and let us get you out."

  
"He stole it! It's mine. Mine." Justin took deep, wracking breaths.

  
"You can die, soon. Not until we get you out, though. Hold still so I can get you out of the restraints."

  
"You won't stop me?" He hiccuped.

  
"No."

  
He held still except for a few more soft hiccups.

  
Alexander let him out. Bryan and Sebastien crowded to one side of the bed, looking at the devastated Justin nervously. He sat on the other corner, farthest from Alexander and Xerxes, whom he kept throwing resentful glances at.

  
Justin's room had been bad, but the next room, for Xerxes was the worst. After that, they found no one else to rescue. They had to squeeze, but they got everyone into the delivery truck, and when they were well away, they called the police to report that the staff were tied up in the kitchen and the office.

  
They opened the door to room next to Justin's, and stepped inside.

  
It was sunny, the curtains were open.

  
The television was off.

  
Xerxes froze, two steps in.

  
His mangled hands clenched at his sides.

  
His eyes closed.

  
Sweat ran down his forehead.

  
'Alexander, get me out of here.'

  
The bed was made.

  
The room had been empty for a long time.

  
And still, every surface emanated

  
Jules' scent.


	18. Capture The Flag Central NASCAR Holding Camp (Codename: Utah Flats)- 2017

**Capture The Flag**   
**Central NASCAR Holding Camp (Codename: Utah Flats)- 2017**

  
There was snow, everywhere, here. It made some deep part of him glad to see it. He did another push-up. A deep part. On top of that were layers of annoyance. He was wearing two sets of gloves. He was free, but he had to stay in this stable with unfamiliar Racing Drivers, and manage the unmatched Drivers, and stay inside all the time, unless he was on the kart track. He wanted to drive something real.

  
There were trucks parked along the outside edge of the fence. This was just a bigger stable, not freedom. He still couldn't go where he liked. He did another push-up. Low weight, high reps, so he wouldn't bulk up and be too heavy for the car. Whichever car.

  
He was sick of going here and there and new places. How was he supposed to settle into a team when he kept getting ripped away? His arms were getting sore. He wasn't getting enough to eat. He was going to be in no shape to race, soon.

  
Pain was no deterrent. It just told him what his body was lacking. He was familiar enough with it.

  
That was another reason he hated the snow. Every time it snowed, his arm ached. That was one wound Esteban hadn't needed replicated on his body. There was no visible scar, just leftover pain. The arm that had been broken was as strong as the other arm, now, but it still hurt terribly, and the metal pin inside him felt cold and foreign. Humans did terrible things to keep Racing Drivers racing. Thought they could fix him like they fixed the car. Now he was part car.

  
That was okay. They could have asked, though. He'd have said yes. Anything to keep racing. They didn't ask. Just held him down and forced the mask onto his face while he thrashed and screamed for help because he thought they were euthanizing him.

  
He'd expected it, after the way they'd hurt them all for the last Grand Tour.

  
_He held his brother's mate, face to face, arms around her. Her belly to his. His brothers children between them. The handlers came with truncheons and he held his arms as tightly around her as he could. They could kill the last of Trace, if they hit her. He felt his back bruise, his legs and his ribs and his arms. He protected as much of her as he could, until one of them managed to pry his hand off her, twist his arm down and around, then up behind his back. His other arm's grip on her didn't last much longer against their pulling, and she turned and rammed her knee up into the handler's groin. She elbowed him under the ribs, as hard a fighter as any lead stallion ought to be._

  
_He was forced to his knees, eyes full of his leader._

  
_She made every handler who touched her sorry for laying their hands on a Racing Driver. She was a mama, now, and she fought like the fiercest mama protecting the Little Racing Drivers Trace had given her. He started to struggle to his feet to reach her, but his arm twisted, and he could feel the fracture spiral up the bone, nearly to his shoulder._

  
_"Ahhhh!"_

  
He did another push-up without thinking, and more push-ups, until the memory faded. None of it hurt so bad as what had happened a week before the Grand Tour ended. Having Trace suddenly in his mind. Feeling his hand holding Alisar's as truly as if he was there with him.

  
Then feeling him disappear like a snap in the air.

  
The brother, the best friend who had always been there to protect him. Shut down like a monitor. Pain that didn't take cold to make him ache.

  
He ached all the time. Esteban told him Xerxes raced for Trace. Alisar couldn't. He thought of Trace and things went cloudy. He couldn't focus.

  
He heard a little gasping pant. He looked over. Esteban, previously matching him push-up for push-up was falling behind. He was also pouring sweat. It wasn't fair to keep him outside in the cold like this. Alisar wasn't letting him feed him part of his meals, but no one was eating enough, anyway.

  
Alisar stopped doing push-ups and stood, easily. He reached down and gathered Esteban up beside him. [Let's have a shower.]

  
Humans were so sturdy. Could stand pain that would kill a Racing Driver, but in compensation for their hardness, they were unresponsive and slow moving. Like a car built to withstand impacts, rather than to maneuver. Like the Rhinoceroses Estaban had showed him images of. Esteban didn't know he was tired until he was too tired to do anything about it.

  
They showered in the big building at one edge of the camp with the big group showers in it. Esteban was taller and more heavily built, Alisar was more compact. They had to pad his race overalls to make them match better. He and Esteban washed each other's hair. He was a Yellow, and not as cuddly as some Racing Drivers. He loved Esteban with his everything, but they weren't as hands on as some bond pairs.

  
Walking back through the enormous open barracks, it was apparent that the F1 bond pairs were all absolutely in each other's space, compared to the American bond pairs. Goose had been on a mission to convert the others to the rightness of cuddling.

  
Which had been made both easier and more difficult by Prince's announcement that she was a mare. The F1 Drivers all knew, they'd all watched her carry her sets of foals around the paddock with her, their quiet, mumbling little voices a welcome addition to the community. Apparently in other stables, this was NOT how it was done.

  
Goose was on a mission and Prince left a challenge hanging in the air for any detractors. She was an F1 world Champion, with more pinnacle wins in the fastest class than almost any other Racing Driver. Anyone faster than her, hadn't gotten that way without learning the value of respect. So she went unchallenged.

  
One of the Americans spoke to Esteban after they returned to their bunks. [We have to go to the radio room,] He told Alisar.

  
They went into the radio room and everyone but the man sitting at the desk, left. A familiar voice came over the radio. Esteban listened and translated to Alisar.

  
[Max says Freeza spoke to you before she left.] That was true, they'd had a call on the monitor. She'd told him that there was men it would be hard to find. The Grand Tour men wouldn't be able to do it.

  
[Alisar, I need you to find one of the FIA agents. He is in the camp where you are.]

  
The man running the radio looked surprised and offended, but kept silent.

  
[No one there, but you, can figure out who he is. I don't know how you'll get him alone, but you have to get him away from his Racing Driver. The Driver will fight to protect him, you know, and we are worried the man will hurt his Racing Driver to protect himself. We don't know how desperate he is. Please be careful.] As Esteban spoke the words Max was saying for Freeza, Alisar's stomach clenched.

  
How could a man intentionally hurt his partner? Could a human be that far gone? He refused to believe it. He wasn't Xerxes. He had seen the lengths the companies would go to, he wasn't naive, but he could not believe that any Racer could have so little effect on his human's mind.

  
But maybe it was true?

  
[Yes, stallion. I will do it. Are you safe?]

  
[Yes, I am safe. The Wild Stigs are very kind. I have memories to share with you. Oh little brother. You should see it. You should see the saints they have here. I cried. The songs, I will bring as many back as I can, and Stig and Stiggy will bring as many as they can, but there is so much here to learn. There aren't enough of us to bring back enough. We will bring some of the Wild Stigs with us when we come home. You will meet a medic like none we have at home. Some others that will interest you.] Alisar giggled. They were bringing Wild Stigs HOME? Medics? Who knew what other specialties? Who knew what other specialties other Stigs had? Shaping clouds into streets? Calling the birds to do mobile pit stops?

  
[I will wait patiently for our new friends to share their wisdom, and I will be brave, stallion, and find him, and protect his Racer.]

  
[We have to go. The others need to speak to their families. I have to speak to Xerxes again. I cannot find Pauli.]

  
[Yes, stallion. Be enduring, Mercedes.]

  
[Be brave, Ferrari.]

  
Together they gestured. [Be on the Grand Tour.]

  
The noise of the radio faded out.

  
The man sitting there, working the radio looked up at Alisar. [Do you want some help finding the man?] He asked. [We have resources.]

  
Alisar shook his head. [No, Tiff. Thank you for offering.]

  
Tiff Needell had been the host of the original Top Gear, before Jeremy Clarkson had rebooted it, complete with a Stig and a warplan. Tiff had gone on to host the show's rival, 5th Gear. Now he was here, using his broadcasting experience to operate the radio in their refugee camp. He turned back to the radio.

  
Then his eyes went wide.

  
He spun towards the center of the camp. "Spearhead!" He spun back to Alisar, [What have you done to him?!]

  
[Nothing. Cage and Ratchet are preventing him from coming to you. They won't hurt him. They care about him. They want the best for him.]

  
Tiff jumped to his feet. [You knew it was me,] He growled, looking for a way past Alisar and Esteban.

  
Alisar shrugged. [Why would a Ferrari stallion and a Renault stallion BE at an American camp? Why would Ratchet and Cage be here, when their stable is so much closer to the camp where the rest of the motocross Riders are? We knew it was you before the Grand Tour was ever broadcast. Jeremy wasn't willing to leave you to FIA.]

  
[Nico and Lewis are here.]

  
[This camp needed Snap and Prince, and someone to support Goose and I.]

  
Esteban laughed. [Just give it up, Tiff, right outside the door are a LOT of people who will be VERY angry if they find out who you are. If you would like not to be beaten to death, you'd better go along with the plan. We won't tell the general population of the camp who you are really working for, and you won't try to hurt anyone, contact anyone, or try to escape. There are a lot of Racing Drivers in the American stables who have Williams in their pedigree. None of them are very happy with the way that bloodline ended. As far as most of the men in this camp are concerned, you are responsible for every one of those murders. We,] He patted Alisar on the shoulder, [Take a broader view.]

  
[What are you talking about?] Tiff stuttered.

  
[I have spent a lot of time caring for a Racer whose mind is not as it should be. I see the flags in Spearhead's behavior. He is hurting. Differently than my friend. Hurting as though he is being pushed away and lied to. There is only one reason a man would do that. Isn't there? To protect his Racing Driver from what the man wishes he didn't have to do.]

  
[They threatened him.]

  
[They always do, Tiff, they are bad, they do bad things. It is known.]

  
[I thought buying Racing Drivers for the Top Gear hosts would get at least some free. Then Blue died, and Jeremy left and they cancelled the show. They threatened Spearhead! They didn't give me a choice. ]

  
[And yet, every match here wasn't given a choice, and all are here.] Alisar smiled warmly at Esteban, who had been so afraid when this plan was laid out to him. He had chosen to do the right thing despite his fear. From the first day the Grand Tour, stallions and men, agreed unanimously to support Top Gear, to the day before the broadcast of the truth of the Racing Drivers, when Max and Freeza had called and told them who it would be their responsibility to hunt, to the sleepless night Alisar and Esteban had hashed over every aspect of the trap they would spring on Tiff, to outside, minutes ago, burning off the nervousness before the biggest game of capture the flag they had ever played.

  
Played, and won.

  
Esteban, despite FIA offering him no choice, was here. Here with Alisar. Here making things right.

  
Ratchet and Cage would keep Spearhead from fighting them. The defeat on Tiff's face said he would give in to their flawless strategy. FIA would pay the Grand Tour stallions back for their pain. Pay ALL the Racing Drivers back for their pain.

  
In a few weeks, they would be meeting at the place the human governments' stewards had chosen.

  
FIA was going on trial.


	19. Taking Undisclosed Location- 2017

**Taking**   
**Undisclosed Location- 2017**

  
There was a conference room full of men. Whose faces didn't have to be hidden, because they were as tied to each other as anyone ever could be, and to destroy one was to destroy all.

  
The governors of FIA, and the heads of the car manufacturing giants, the people in control of the automotive industry, those responsible for the slavery of the Racing Drivers, sat around the table. Some were concerned, some were congratulating one another. They each had someone standing attendance on them. The attendants were against the walls, watching silently. The governors had fled the moment the Grand Tour Broadcast had aired. There had been no time for niceties. They'd abandoned their factories and their stables and their businesses to the ones they'd hired to manage them, and come away.

  
They had each made sure to bring the vital evidence with them. Their team managers and stable managers were locked in rooms downstairs.

  
The discussion among the governors was ranging between whether they should make a stand to take back their property and how, or start breeding the back stock, or claim innocence, or foist the blame on the stable managers and, as benefactors, come forward to benefits from the new order in whatever way possible.

  
A few of the attendants smirked.

  
The door opened. As one the governors turned to stare at the intruders.

  
The man and the Racing Driver looked wild, like they'd crawled through bushes for a week to get there. There was a twig in the Racing Driver's beard. They each had an orange fire ax in their hands. The man chuckled. There was a strained tone in it that made their hair stand on end.

  
[Do you know what it feels like to be gassed?] He gestured. [After a lifetime of being trapped and used and denied, to be trapped and denied the right to run, to save your children, to watch them die? Show them, Mika. Make them feel it.]

  
The attendants along the walls of the room screamed and collapsed, put their hands over their heads and kicked and screamed.

  
Racing Drivers only sound human when they cry.

  
Valtteri stepped forward, weighing his ax in his hands. "You have a choice. Because we are not you. We have you trapped, but you get a choice." He threw down a bag of zip ties into the conference table. "We brought Justice and we brought," He hoisted the ax into his shoulder, "Revenge."

  
He pointed at the zip ties. "If you aren't interested in facing Revenge, then line up and we'll zip tie your hands."

  
They got up and lined up. When one of the car manufacturers gestured, [Rush them, they can't get us all,] Everyone else stepped away from him.

  
"Yes," Valtteri called, "Who wants to be the ones we DO get?"

  
Pauli laughed.

  
He was still holding the attendant Racing Drivers in writhing agony on the floor. He had a good memory, and thousands of dying Williams' Drivers pain left to share.

  
"You," Valtteri pointed to one of the women, "Bring him," He pointed to the man next to her, "To the table and zip tie his hands tightly in front of him."

  
She did.

  
Valtteri checked the zip tie, then pulled it tighter. "Tight as you can."

  
He pointed people out randomly until they were all tied but the woman he'd selected. He set down his axe beside the door. He had her cross her wrists and move slowly towards him. He zip tied her as well, and then went down the line, daisy chaining their wrists together, so he had a long ziptied chain of prisoners.

  
He walked back and opened the door and picked up his axe. He did a double take as he looked at the handle. "Well look at that," He laughed, "I forgot YOUR axe was Revenge, Pauli."

  
Pauli laughed, again.

  
Valtteri's face went cold and hard, in a grimace of hatred. "My axe is Justice." He started back towards the people in control of every aspect of FIA.

  
The door swung slowly closed.


End file.
